


Dream Brother I thru III (3/7)

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-04-15
Updated: 2001-04-15
Packaged: 2018-11-20 12:08:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 57,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11335347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Sent to investigate mysterious hauntings in the painted wilds of Utah, the X-files team stumbles upon more than they bargained for, including the indomitable Alex Krycek.





	Dream Brother I thru III (3/7)

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Dream Brother by Tabby

Krycek, Mulder and Runningwater had pinto bean soup with cornbread and salad for dinner.

"This is pretty good," said Mulder, blowing on a spoonful.

"Thank you," said Bill.

"Do you still want me to leave after dinner, Alex?" asked Mulder in a small voice.

"I think it's best. And, Mulder -- keep your weapon drawn. Put it on the passenger's seat, or something."

Mulder finished in a hurry. "That was really good, thank you so much for your hospitality," he said to Bill Runningwater. "I'm gonna go, Alex."

Krycek looked at him. "OK, Mulder. I'll cover you."

Mulder drove down the hillside with Krycek's Mercedes right behind him. When he reached Soquel Drive, Krycek turned around and waved to Mulder. "It's OK now!" he called.

Krycek drove slowly up Sequoia Grade. On the way he passed two cars, parked near a culvert on opposite sides of the road. Curious, he circled back for a look. Two nondescript autos, an Escort and a Cavalier. He thought he saw something under the front seat of the Cavalier -- he smashed the glass on the passenger's side with a rock -- yes, there it was, a Beretta, carelessly stashed. It's mine now, he thought, chuckling inwardly. Whoever tossed it under there, he thought reluctantly, has a more powerful weapon at his disposal. He looked through the glove compartment idly. Rental receipt, map of Santa Cruz, and -- what was this? -- a compact. Blush. He laughed. He was being chased by a woman? And a vain one.

While he was at it, he decided to smash out the window of the Escort parked across the street. Rifling through this car, he hit pay dirt: a business card, with the imprinted name of "C.G. B. Spender." The Old Man was behind this, after all!

Krycek thought a moment. He searched in the underbrush for an empty Coke can. Then he popped the hood of the Escort and cut out a length of rubber hose with his pocketknife. With the hose and the Coke can, he was able to siphon out a canful of gasoline; the gas tank was not locked. He then spritzed the interior of the car with half the gasoline. He pulled a book of matches out of his jacket pocket and set the car aflame. Krycek looked for a moment, satisfied, then walked across the street and did the same thing to the Cavalier.

Then he ran to his Mercedes and climbed in. Time's a-wasting, he thought, and roared off.

"Where've you been?" asked Bill Runningwater, suspiciously.

"No place," said Alex blithely.

Bill shook his head. "I just bet," he said.

Krycek took up his post at the living room window, assault rifle in hand, staring hard at the surrounding landscape.

"I do wish you wouldn't point that thing around in the house," the Navajo chided. "Someone could get hurt."

"Have you seen any more sign of them?"

"No, I haven't, but I still feel we're being watched."

Krycek nodded. "We are. I found their cars. Look what I found." He tossed the business card to the Indian.

"Spender, huh? Think the Old Man is behind this?"

"Yes. He'd pretty much have to be."

"Alexei, what's that smell? Like smoke? Alexei, what did you do?"

Krycek turned and looked at him. "Nothing they didn't deserve."

Night began to fall. Bill began to turn lights on, but Krycek stopped him. "No. I don't want them to see anything. Now, you can help me do something," he said.

"What?"

"You'll see. Cut open all the throw pillows and take out the stuffing, while I go and get some clothes..." his voice trailed off as he walked into the bedroom. He came out with pants and shirts, and went to the kitchen, rummaging around for a few more items. "Here!" he said, tossing the clothes to Bill. "Let's stuff these..."

Bill Runningwater looked at him. "We're making a dummy?"

"Exactly. Now stuff these clothes, as I'm doing. For the head I'll use a tea towel, like so! And for the hair, I'll cut a hunk out of this black shirt..."

"Oh, your nice shirt!"

"Don't worry about it! I can buy many more. Now, see, I'll use this scissors to cut this shirt piece so, to give it some spikes...it's my hair, Bill. Here's some glue to stick everything together. What do you think?"

He stood back from his creation and eyed it critically. "Think it'll pass muster?"

Bill Runningwater stroked his chin. "At night, yes, but..."

"But they'll have night-vision glasses? Infrared. Yeah, of course they will. Let's see...Bill, go in the garage and find me a space heater, please?"

"OK," the Navajo said, and disappeared down the steps. "This what you want?" he said, bringing up a quartz heater.

"Oh, that's perfect! We'll set the dummy in the window and the heater in back of the dummy...not too close...there! It'll heat that puppy up and their glasses will pick it up beautifully!"

They'd set the dummy and heater up in the big plate-glass sliding-door window, which was the one that Krycek figured they'd still be watching. If he was wrong, then hey! He'd have to suffer the consequences. He couldn't worry about that.

He took up his post again in the living room window, sitting on top of the couch with easy, feral grace, one foot tucked under him and the AK-47 cradled in his lap. He turned in the direction of Runningwater, who was checking the radar display screen in the master bedroom. "Bill! Best if you go to bed and stay under cover! Stay away from the windows."

"All right, Alexei," he called. "They're still in their original position, about 100 feet from that window."

Krycek called back, "OK! Remember, lay low and stay away from the windows! If possible get under the bed! This is going to get ugly!"

The night advanced, and shadows drew upon the house. The phone rang, and, cursing, Krycek leaned over to pick it up. "Yes?" he answered curtly.

"Krycek? This is David White," the caller said. Oh, shit. "Fox Mulder said there might be trouble up your way. If you want, I'll have the police investigate."

Krycek lied, "No, there's no problem. My friend Bill imagined he saw something in the bushes. Turns out it was just a deer," and he forced a laugh.

"Well, OK," White said doubtfully. "If there's any problem at all, give me a call at this number: 425-8990."

White hung up the call, thinking, he's hiding something. Too bad every fucking cop in the county is on this holdup at the B of A or I'd have a couple of squad cars check on him.

Krycek hung up the call thinking, why the fuck did Mulder have to call White? The whole fucking police force could be down on me like a duck on a June bug at any moment.

*************************************************

Fielding and Martinez watched as Mulder's and then Krycek's car roared up the drive and stole down Lamb Hill. Martinez started to stand up. "Should I go after them?" Fielding put a hand on her arm. 

"No, don't. Krycek will be back in a few minutes," he said.

"You mean he's escorting Mulder down the hill?" she asked incredulously. "That means he knows about us? How could he!"

He leaned over and looked at her. "The man's smart," he admitted grudgingly. "The Smoking Man told me he'd once been the most dangerous spook in the world."

"Yes, I'd heard the same thing," said Martinez. "My real name's Carmen, by the way," she said suddenly. 

"Yeah, I know," he grunted. This leaning on elbows was getting to be a bit wearing.

"What's that!" she said, and pointed. They both trained their binoculars on it: a wisp of smoke. He shrugged.

"Maybe someone's burning something. A lot of people around here have woodstoves."

"Would they be using these stoves on a warm summer's afternoon?"

"I don't see anything untoward," he reported at last. "We'll keep an eye on it."

Just then they heard a diesely sound and Krycek's Mercedes came pounding up the grade at 45 miles per hour. They followed the car with their glasses as he turned left at Lamb Hill then hung a sharp left again into his driveway. The garage door opened and he drove in. He was inside.

They didn't see him for a few minutes, then they caught sight of him again in front of the dining room window. "Bet he's gone around to the side," said Fielding.

Just then there was an enormous "BOOM!" that shook the ground and rattled their bones. Fielding jumped to his feet. "I'll kill 'im!" he yelled. "I'll kill the son of a bitch! Bastard!"

Martinez looked, and where the trickle of smoke had been was a great billow of black reaching skyward. Flames licked hungrily in its midst.

"Don't you see?" he asked, gesturing. "Our cars! He blew our cars up!"

Realization hit Martinez, and she sat down in the dirt. "Oh, shit!" she said, kicking a weed. "This is gonna look really good for us with the Old Man."

Fielding turned to her. "Whether or not the Old Man learns of this is immaterial. I'm going to take that little bastard out."

"But he hasn't threatened us. How will we explain this?"

"Hasn't threatened us, hell. He bombed our cars! Bet that faggot excuse for an operative is in there splitting his sides. I'm taking him out, Martinez. Now are you with me? Because if you're not, you can always walk eight miles down that hill and thumb a ride...or call a cab if you think any of them come up here...They don't, Carmen... Then you, personally, would get to explain to the Old Man what happened to the cars, and the mission." He resettled his glasses on his nose. "Do you really want to do that?"

She shook her head.

"OK, here's what we do. Come nightfall, we go after him. He'll be sitting in one of those windows...he'll have a gun, maybe something better than ours, but remember, he only has one arm, so his reflexes aren't like ours. We'll use the infrared glasses to spot him. I'll get him in my scope then all it should take are one or two clean shots to the head. Your shots should come at just about the same time. We'll get him."

She nodded.

"Now, the story is, he shot at us, so we shot back, out of self-defense."

"How will we get back down off this mountain?"

"Take one of his cars," he said easily. "We'll return it later. He's got a friend or companion in there, older, an Indian. I don't think he'll give us any trouble at all. If he does, we shoot him."

"Those are the Old Man's cars," Martinez pointed out, but he didn't hear her.

"There...there! Almost a clear shot, almost!" he whispered fiercely.

*************************************************

Mulder drove glumly back to Steamer's, parked the car and dragged himself across the threshhold. Scully was back, but not White. He'd gotten an emergency call from the station. It seemed a big B of A heist was in progress, and someone had to be there to man the phones for his department.

"So there you are," said Scully, sharp-eyed "You're about five hours early! What the hell's the matter with you, Mulder?"

"Um," said Mulder noncomittally, walking wearily into the living room and flipping on the sports channel after grunting to the Lone Gunmen, who were playing three-dimensional chess. Byers and Frohike were, actually; Langly was kibbitzing and his sticky sucker was back.

"Did you eat?" called Scully. "There's Chinese leftovers, if you want them."

"No, thank you, Scully, I ate," he said so dolefully that she came in and perched on the sofa next to him. 

"Tell Dr. Scully your problems," she said soothingly. He shook his head. "I can't."

"Oh, they can't be that bad!" she said. "Did you and Alex have a tiff?"

"Alex and I...Alex and I are fine...Scully, I'm terribly worried about him. Can I tell you about him?"

"Sure," she said, nodding and taking his large hand in her small ones. "Tell away!"

So he told her, haltingly, of the spy, of the blips on the radar screen, of Krycek and his guns. She shuddered. "No wonder you're so upset, Mulder! I'll call White this very minute, and as for you -- are you taking your psych meds? Do you have them?"

"No, and no," said Mulder.

"It's OK. Look, Mulder, I'll take care of this. You're too close to it all. I'm going to give you an injection, Mulder. Just a minute -- " she went and dug in her bag. "Injectable Valium!" she crowed.

"I don't want any injections. Makes me think of that hospital."

"Well, no one's going to take you to the hospital, Mulder. I've even given this to David when he's gotten really wound up. It's just to help you relax, promise," she said, smoothing his cheek with her hand. "Left arm would be better? OK. Thanks. First the swab, then... There!" She withdrew the needle. "This might make you sleepy, Mulder. I wouldn't fight it, if I were you. Just sit back and watch TV..there you go!"

She hurried back to the kitchen, picked up the phone with trembling hands and punched in a number.

"White."

"David, this is Dana. I think we may have a situation going down with Krycek in that house in Soquel."

"Oh? How so?"

"Well, Mulder is talking all this talk of spies, and people in the bushes, and Krycek and his guns."

"Oh, really? Is Mulder OK?"

"Yes, he's -- oh, do you mean is he psychotic? You know, I honestly don't know, Dave," she said, "I hadn't stopped to consider that. But God, you know, I think Krycek'd be the one to be psychotic in this instance. Remember the story the Gunmen told of his charging them with an Uzi?"

"Uh-huh," said White. "And they were trying to blow him up with a letter bomb at the time, as I recall."

"Yeah, but...You honestly don't take any of this seriously, do you? Nobody'd bother Krycek."

"Oh, I wouldn't be too sure of that. But if it makes you feel better," he added, "I will check up on him. I'll call him, Dana. I'll see whether he's OK. I really, honestly can't spare one single officer at this time. They're all at B of A. It's a hostage situation. They've even got half of San Jose's finest at the scene."

"OK," she said dully. Then she said, on impulse, "David, you don't know Krycek like Mulder and I know him."

"No," he said, "but I know him pretty well."

After she'd hung up, Scully came in to look at Mulder. He turned to look at her. "Patient is resting comfortably," he intoned.

She laughed and came to take his hand. "Mulder. I called David, and he said he'll be doing all he can to help out with the Krycek situation."

He nodded solemnly. "I hope he took you seriously, Scully."

*************************************************

At some point during the long evening Krycek had to take a leak. He crept on hands and feet to the master bathroom, nearly colliding with Bill Runningwater, who was stretched out on his stomach. Most of him was under the bed. "Alexei! How are you?" he asked fervently, getting partway up and then banging his head on the bottom of the bed. "Ow!"

"I'm fine," whispered Krycek. "Keep all conversation to a whisper."

"Isn't this house specially soundproofed so it can't be surveilled auditorily?" The Navajo asked.

"It is, but I don't like to push it, you know? If you need to get up to go to the bathroom or just stretch, I'll spot you," Krycek said, gesturing with the rifle.

"OK. Be careful," said Runningwater, eyeing the gun with no small amount of distrust.

He got halfway up and crept to the bathroom. After he was done, Krycek went in to pee. He'd entrusted the AK-47 to the Indian, who shrank from its touch and who was only too happy to give it back.

"Bill," whispered Krycek, "What's probably gonna happen is that in a few minutes that dummy is gonna draw fire. I want you to STAY DOWN. I'm gonna run outside and come up around the back of them. They'll never know what hit 'em."

"I don't like to see bloodshed, Alexei," Bill said, troubled.

"I know, neither do I, but sometimes it's justified, Bill." Krycek touched his friend on the shoulder. "Whatever happens, I want you to know that you're my best friend, always and forever."

"As you are mine," said Runningwater. "I will say a prayer for you, Alexei. It is the warrior's prayer, from a Plains Indian tribe." He began to sing in an Indian language. Krycek bustled about the room on his hands and knees, pulling together a dark outfit: black jeans, T-shirt, socks, gloves, shoes. He dug in a drawer for some Halloween paint and smeared his face with greasy black stuff.

Runningwater finished and watched him, shaking his head. Krycek leaned toward him. "This is to remember me by," he said, and kissed him lightly.

"Alexei, I could never forget you," Bill said sorrowfully.

Krycek crawled on his hand and knees back to the couch, this time sitting so that he was partially obscured by the curtain. Gazing out into the night, he could see very little. His closest neighbor was a mile away, her lights burning like faint beacons in the dark. Wonder if the Old Man had infrared goggles, he wondered suddenly. Back he went into the bedroom on hands and knees, rooting in the cedar chest. Wonder where he'd keep 'em? He looked in a drawer under the radar screen, glancing at the screen as he did so. Yes, the two blips were still in the same approximate position, but they were a little closer. Damn -- damned if he didn't find a pair! Apologizing to Bill for bumping into him again, he made his way back to his perch and raised the specs to his eyes. He couldn't see them from this angle. Disappointed, he looped them round his neck and fiddled with the strap while he waited. 

He didn't have long to wait. One, two, three and four shots came in rapid succession, striking the stuffed head of the dummy, flying out the other side and lodging themselves in the wall. The dummy fell slowly and rather gracefully to the floor. "BILL! STAY DOWN!" he screamed. 

Then he jumped up, rifle and binoculars looped round his neck, and flew out the back door. Taking great pains to negotiate the stairs soundlessly, he landed by the west pasture. He unlooped the gate, ran in and slapped a surprised Guardian on the rump, as hard as he could. The stallion reared, neighing shrilly, and took off in a mighty thunder of hooves. In the east pasture, Diablo heard the call and screamed, pounding up and down the fence. In all the noise and confusion, Krycek was able to slip along the fence and through the pasture unobserved.

*************************************************

"Think we got 'im?" Carmen Martinez, aka Evita, asked.

"Four shots through the head. How could we not have? Yep, he's down all right," Fielding said, looking through the specs. "Here, have a look."

"Yes, you're right," she agreed. 

Suddenly they heard the thunder of horses' hooves and loud whinnies coming from the direction of the pastures. "What the hell was that?" Asked Fielding, training his rifle on the sound.

She shrugged. "The horses spooked at something. I had a horse, and I know they do that all the time."

He kept his rifle pointed in the direction of the horses. "Could be that Indian," he muttered, but they heard nothing more. "OK," he finally said, reluctantly, and lowered his rifle.

"Now for the car. Might this Indian be armed?"

"He might. Keep your weapon drawn at all times."

They stood up and allowed themselves the luxury of a stretch. "Let's try going around the house, rather than through it," she suggested.

He shook his head. "Doors, garage doors in the way. If we go through the house, we'll be going through the smashed window; easier access."

While they were debating thus, Krycek ran up behind them. "You bastard! You bitch!" He screamed at them. Surprised, they barely had time to aim before a burst of fire from Krycek's Kalashnikov mowed them down. Standing over them, Krycek shot a few more rounds into them to make sure they were dead.

A shadowy figure appeared at the broken door. "You'd better let go of Alex!" the figure bellowed, aiming a gun.

Krycek looked and looked, and laughed at the spectacle of Bill Runningwater aiming an Uzi at him. "Bill, it's me! Alex! I'm fine! It's all over!" He threw down the AK-47 and did an insane little dance around the bodies. "You didn't get me! I got you! You didn't get me! I got you!" he chanted.

Runningwater approached, coming over to Alex, looking at the corpses. "I guess we need to call the police, huh, Alexei?" he asked.

Krycek looked at him with shining eyes. "Oh, no, we don't. We'll just plant 'em in that pasture there."

"You mean, bury them here? On the property? Won't they find out?"

"No," said Krycek. "They won't. Oh, they may come snooping 'round here, but they won't find anything and then they'll leave. Or they will find something, and the Old Man will get me out of it. He always does."

"Now, wait a minute," said Runningwater. "You kill the Old Man's spies, and the Old Man gets you off for their murder? Is this logical, Alexei?"

Krycek grinned at him, a flash of white teeth in the gloom. "It wasn't murder. It was self-defense."

"That's why you should call the police."

"No, look, Bill. The police and Alex Krycek are not friends. The police would love nothing more than to see me rot."

"What about that David White fella? He seems like an awfully nice guy."

"No. Telling White at this point, because he's "on" the force, is like telling the whole S'Cruz PD. Won't work. We plant 'em."

"Exactly where?"

Krycek nodded toward the west pasture. "In the far southwestern corner of that enclosure. It's a mile or more to the nearest house. No one comes by there, and no one will smell anything funny."

"How're we gonna drag them?"

"You take the woman; she's probably lighter. I'll take the man. Just a sec." He ran off to the house and came back with a piece of rope, which he cut in two. He gave one piece to Bill and looped the other over his neck and under his right arm, tying it around Fielding's ankles. "Like a travois!" he said. "You try it! It's easy!"

Bill grumbled but fastened the rope to the woman's ankles and together they dragged the corpses to the corner of the pasture. Guardian stood in the northwestern corner, snorting and looking unhappy. "Now for the next step!" Krycek said. "Just a minute," and he ran off toward the garage.

"Here," he said, running back with a backpack, "are two strong flashlights and extra batteries, four peanut-butter-and-jam sandwiches, a gallon of iced tea, and two shovels."

"Good grief," muttered Runningwater. "OK, toss me a shovel!"

They dug for hours, taking sandwich and tea breaks at intervals. Fortunately the soil was very loose and soft here. From time to time Krycek would call a halt, looking critically at his creation. "It's OK," he said finally. "Let's roll 'em in."

Roll them they did, with much grunting and cursing. "OK," said Krycek. "Now we cover 'em up. This is the easy part!"

He began singing softly in a strange foreign language as they filled in the dirt. It was a mournful song of love won and love lost, ending in a death. They filled in the top layer of soil then spread leaves and small branches around to make it look natural. Krycek beamed. "This is perfect!" he said approvingly.

"Won't it stink?" asked the Navajo.

Krycek shook his head. "Not so's you'd notice. It'll be fine, Bill. Coupla spooks -- they won't exactly get out the bloodhounds, you know?"

"Shit," said Runningwater. "This is really a fine thing you've gone and done here, Alexei, I hope you realize that."

*************************************************

Sharon Green went to bed on a full stomach, and tossed and turned with unpleasant dreams all evening. At about 9 PM she began to dream of Alex. He was about to do something terrible. "No, Lexy, no," she begged him in her dream. "Don't, please don't!" Then she heard a sound like a gunshot and sat bolt upright. "Alexei, what have you done? It was the Devil's work," she whispered. "The Devil's work."

Suddenly, she noticed her candles lighting themselves in rapid succession, one by one. Then she was flattened against the bed with great force, as if by an unseen hand. Her arms were pinned and her nightgown flew up around her head. She screamed. "Jason, if this is you I'll get you! I'll get you, Jason!"

There was loud laughter from an unseen mouth. To her enduring disgust, shock and terror she felt a hand reach up around her inner thighs and rip her panties off. "Jason, I'll get you! I'll cut off your balls, Jason!" More laughter. She knew what was coming, and she felt so sick she could feel herself retching. Someone crawled up between her thighs and mounted her, and she felt sharp, agonizing pain as the enormous phallus tore into her. Oh God and Goddess I shall die, she thought, I shall surely die. She started screaming, asking for the Goddess' protection, asking for doom to fall upon this man who was raping her, screaming until she was hoarse, and she kept on screaming. Whoever had done this thing without her permission was shaking with laughter. She could not see who it was because of her nightgown and she could not move her hands to scratch his eyes out.

The man thrust and thrust into her, every pump sending tearing pain through her, every nerve zinging as if sliced, bruised. "I'll kill you I'll kill you I'll kill you!" she yelled, and suddenly he stopped. Sharon realized he'd ejaculated and withdrawn. The nightgown flipped down, her arms were mobile and she could sit up. Sitting on a chair was her tormentor, a young man of sublime beauty, rather like Jason in aspect and build. "Jason, I'll kill you!" she cried and stood up on the bed. Then she realized the man wasn't her ex-husband.

"Who the hell are you?" she asked slowly. "Whoever you are, I'll kill you for what you've done. I am sacred of the Goddess and I shall not be harmed!"

He laughed and came forward, sat on the bed, sat her down and took her hand, stroking it. She jerked it away. "How dare you? After what you've done! I'm going directly to the police. Then I'm going to kill you." She raised her hand to strike him but it would not move.

"Sharon, Sharon," he chided. "Sharon of 'turn the other cheek'? Sharon of pacifism? Sharon of good works? Hmm?"

He took her hand again. "Sharon, I admire you so much. You have great power, greater than any other human. You must learn to work with that power. You can make it much greater! You shall join with me, and together we will rule the world. We and the child you now carry in your womb." he touched her stomach gently.

She looked at him long, and realization grew, and with it, numbing horror. "I know who YOU are!" she said. "You are the Father of Lies! You are the Prince of Darkness! Go back to hell where you came from!"

He caught her gesturing arm. "Calm down, little one. You are getting yourself all in a tizzy."

Then he bent down and kissed her. She did not believe this was happening, but she was powerless to prevent it. The kiss traveled to her throat and down to her breasts. He sucked each one, and she gasped. "N-no, no, no!" she cried, "Stop! Stop right now! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!"

He pulled back and took her face in his hands, turning it this way and that. "Brilliant, powerful, shall I say...fiery... and possessed of perfect beauty -- what combination in woman! Were you mine, I would have you all the time. But what am I talking about!" he laughed. "You ARE mine!"

He continued to laugh for a moment and then he was gone. Just gone.

Sharon crawled back into bed and pulled the covers over her head. Maybe she'd dreamed the whole damned thing. She touched between her legs, tentatively. She was very sore and when she brought her hand up to her face she saw blood. Suddenly she felt very sick. She ran to the bathroom and retched and hurled for fifteen minutes.

*************************************************

"Scully," came the sleepy voice.

"Agent Scully, this is Sharon Green. I'm afraid I-I've been raped..."

Scully shot bolt upright. She nudged White, who groaned. "Sharon, you've got to go right to the police. If you need a ride, we'll give you one." She poked White again.

"What?" he asked irritably.

Scully covered the receiver. "Sharon's been raped!" she hissed. He sat up and fell out of bed in his haste to get dressed.

"Agent Scully, I was hoping you could look at me before the police."

"I will if you want me to, but remember I do work closely with the police here."

"I just...I just." the poor girl was sobbing.

"Want us to come get you?" Scully asked smoothly.

"No, n-no, I h-have t-to get aw-way! N-now!"

"Sharon, are you fit to drive?" She scowled at White, who was shaking his head "no."

"N-no. N-no. I-I'm h-h-hurt," she sobbed.

"Sharon, we're sending an ambulance immediately. What apartment are you in? 1B? Good. Now, this is gonna happen within fifteen minutes, so bring anything you might need for a hospital stay. Shampoo, stuff like that. Someone will be right with you, Sharon. I'll meet you at the ER, OK?"

She covered the receiver again. "David, call an ambulance on your cell phone. I'll stay on the phone to Sharon, try to talk her down."

"Already done," he said, pocketing the cell phone.

She smiled at him. "Now, Sharon. How are you doing?"

"I-I. Uh, h-he. I-I c-c-c-can't say it."

"Can't say what, dear?"

"H-he w-was the D-devil."

"All rapists are the Devil, dear," said Scully.

"N-no, oh God, h-he w-was the ac-actual Devil."

"Yes, Sharon, it can certainly seem that way. You've just been the victim of a terrible crime so of course the criminal is the Devil to you."

Inarticulate sobbing. "Scully? A-are y-you st-still there?"

"Sharon, I'm here and I'll always be here for you." Scully felt her eyes tearing up. That this gentle child, innocent despite her sophistication, vulnerable despite her strange powers, was hurt so horribly made her doubt the existence of anything good.

After the ambulance arrived and Sharon was loaded upon a gurney, Scully finally clicked off. Standing holding the receiver, she wept. White came into the room and immediately enfolded her in an embrace, kissing her wet face. How lucky she was to have this fine man. Poor Sharon had nothing but men who hurt her because she was beautiful

The weeping continued for some minutes. "Hey," White said, pushing back a stray lock of red hair, "sweetheart, we've got to get it together. We've got to go down to the emergency room now."

She nodded miserably. "Id so sad," she said through a stuffy nose. He produced a kleenex and she blew her nose and mopped her face. "How do I look?" she asked hopefully.

"Darling Dana," he said, "you always look ravishing to me. You look fine. Now come on!" He pulled her in the direction of the door.

*************************************************

At exactly 9:45 two squad cars showed up in the driveway, flashing lights and all. Krycek, his face having been scrubbed and the strange getup changed to blue jeans and his green poet's shirt, opened the door. "Hi officers," he said, batting his long dark lashes at them. "How are you?"

"Uh," said the officer in charge. "We're fine, but how are you, Sir? We got a report that you had prowlers?"

"Oh, no, Sirs," said Krycek, turning his luminous large green eyes upon them. "It was a mistake! Just deer!" He leaned against the doorway provocatively, winked at a good-looking junior officer.

This guy, thought the charge officer, is a faggot through and through, and he's perfectly harmless. Up here, sure, a deer, even a raccoon can seem like an unwelcome visitor.

"OK, Sir, Mr. Krycek? Yes, Mr. Krycek, you don't mind if we have a quick look around the place, do you?"

Krycek smiled, showing his perfect white teeth. "Of course not, officers!" They tipped their hats to him and went poking around outside. In a while they straggled back.

"Sir, why's your window broken?" one of them asked. 

"The deer," said Krycek, seriously. "Big buck. Came crashing through, ran back out."

The man shook his head. "Odd behavior for a deer, unless it was sick."

"It could have been," said Krycek gravely.

"Do you hunt?" the man asked offhandedly.

"I used to, some," Krycek said cautiously.

The man nodded. "Me too. Say, you wouldn't happen to have any guns lying around, would you?" he asked.

Krycek shook his head ingenuously. "No. You can take a look inside my house, if you want."

Krycek and Runningwater, anticipating a visit by the police, had hidden all the firearms, ammo, and had burned the dummy, the slit pillows. The police looked and looked but could find nothing out of order except the window.

"Sorry to bother you, Mr. Krycek, Mr. Runningwater. We get these reports, you know. We'll make a clean report to the Chief." After they'd left Krycek slumped against the door. "God!" he said fervently. "I'll go get the stuff!" said Runningwater, dashing out to the east pasture. They'd hidden the firearms and ammo in three duffel bags under a pile of horse manure.

*************************************************

At 10 PM, Mulder received a call on his cell phone. "Buldurgh," he said.

"Mulder? This is Alex. Hey, the problem went away, coast clear and all!"

"Thagudth."

"Mulder, are you awake."

"Juth barelith."

"Do they have you on some drug, Mulder?"

"Baliub."

"Oh, Valium. Listen, Mulder, I'm coming down to get you, and I mean NOW, and I mean I'm gonna GET you!"

"Ogay."

When Krycek knocked gently on the door a sleepy but risen Mulder was there to greet him.

"You're still wearing your pajamas."

"Yeth."

"Well, that just makes it easier. Mulder, I'm gonna ask you to pull down your pajama bottoms --that's right. And bend over that table, there -- that's right. Oh God, Mulder, what that looks like -- it's Heaven."

"Thagud."

"Spread your legs -- that's good."

Krycek bent down and kissed and licked Mulder's ass. Mulder groaned. Krycek licked between his ass cheeks, in the crevice, and rimmed him deeply. Mulder moaned.

"That's nothing compared to what's coming," Krycek remarked. He pulled his lube out of a jacket pocket, unzipped his jeans and took out his cock, which was very hard. He lubed himself and the opening to Mulder's heat. Then he shoved himself home. Mulder gasped. "At this angle, I can't get your cock, Mulder, so you'll have to do it yourself," Krycek said, thrusting as deeply as he could. Mulder found words at last. "FUCK ME!" He yelled, very loudly. "ALEX! ALEX! FUCK ME!" 

Krycek was incredibly turned on by this, and pumped even harder. Mulder grasped his own cock and began to stroke it.

*************************************************

Langly had come down for a midnight snack of Lucky Stars when he saw the scenario on the kitchen table. There was Mulder, bent over the table, being plugged by Alex Krycek! The sucker fell completely out of his mouth and plopped unnoticed on the stairs. He had to get the other guys to see this! He ran upstairs and quickly woke them, and they all three padded down the steps. Langly glanced at them. Yes, he could see their eyes getting bigger and bigger, too!

*************************************************

Krycek varied his strokes so that sometimes Mulder got just the head of his cock, sometimes halfway, and sometimes the full, glorious length. Always, though, he stroked the prostate.

"ALEX! ALEX! I'M COMING!" Mulder yelled, and he spurted all over the kitchen table just as Krycek came inside him, shooting hot fluid as far as he could.

They stood for a moment connected, then Krycek with a sigh pulled out. He leaned against the wall. "That was fuckin' great, Mulder! If you wanna fuck me now, hey, I have no objections!"

"And you!" he turned toward the Gunmen with very knowing eyes. "I hope you got an eyeful. If you didn't, I could REALLY give you an eyeful," he said, holding his cock.

They scrambled as one up the steps to their rooms. Mulder and Krycek heard doors slam, and they laughed. The Gunmen were afraid of the fearsome Alex Krycek.

"Wanna get fucked?" Mulder asked, stroking his cock, which had become very hard again.

"Yes," Krycek breathed. "I wanna get fucked by your big, huge, beautiful throbbing cock. I want you inside me, Mulder."

"Well, I wanna fuck you. I wanna bury my great big cock in your tight little ass and fuck you till you scream, Alex, and then some more. Against the wall, Alex."

Krycek braced himself in a corner and spread his legs. "How's this?"

"That's beautiful, Alex!" Mulder kissed and licked his ass, starting on the cheeks and traveling inward till he was rimming him, pushing his tongue in as far as he could go. Krycek moaned and spread his legs further apart. Mulder slicked his right hand with the lube, then his cock. First he shoved one finger up Krycek's ass, then two. Krycek moaned and writhed. Three fingers. Krycek groaned. "Fuck me!" he said with difficulty.

"I'm gonna fuck you, Alex, till you can't walk. I'm gonna fuck you till you can't get out of bed in the morning!" Then Mulder withdrew his fingers and pushed his greased cock up against Krycek's tight bud, teasing him a moment. Krycek groaned. 

"Now, Mulder, do it now!" He begged.

"You want it now? Hmm? Now? OK, I'm gonna give it to you now. All ten inches, Alex! Are you ready, baby?"

"I'm ready, Mulder!"

Mulder shoved in just the head of his cock, moving it in and out gently. Krycek writhed, and Mulder pushed the whole length of his large and long cock into Krycek's heat. Krycek gasped.

"Like that, hmm? Want it more? Lemme hear you say so, Alex!"

"More!" cried Krycek. "I want it more! Fuck me more! Hard and deep!"

"Happy to oblige, my love," said Mulder, and thrust deeply. He grasped Krycek's cock, which was painfully engorged, and rubbed on some lube, pumping it in time to the thorough fucking he was giving Krycek.

Krycek couldn't last long. With a strangled cry he came, pumping come against the wall, the floor, and all over Mulder's hand. Mulder soon followed suit, yelling and shooting hot liquid deep into Krycek's heat.

They stood for a moment, connected. Mulder bent his head and kissed Krycek. "I love you, Alex," he murmured. "I love you too!"

*************************************************

The Consortium group sat in their private lounge overlooking the Place Vendome. One elderly man remarked, "We've not heard from Fielding and Martinez. They were supposed to call in hours ago."

The Smoking Man, sitting a little apart from the others, pulled on a Morley and blew out white smoke. "Don't worry about it," he said. He had a feeling that he knew what had happened to their operatives, and he didn't regret it greatly. 

"But they're important to our Mission," the heavy-set middle-aged Italian man protested. 

"How so?" asked the Smoking Man idly, tuning The First Elder out. He was thinking about Krycek and Mulder fucking, and this bothered him more than he let on. Plus, there was the matter of Krycek screwing up the mission he'd been paid so handsomely to do. Krycek couldn't be spilling the beans to Mulder. That wouldn't do. That wouldn't do at all.

"...Because if Krycek is consorting with the enemy, he is completely unreliable as an operative," the man was saying.

The Smoking Man nodded. "I'll pull Krycek off the case immediately," he said. And I'll whale the hell out of the little bastard when I get back, he thought, taking a sip of his whisky sour. "Don't worry, I'll take care of everything."

"My God, man!" spoke up the Well-Manicured Man. "You're not thinking of hurting him, are you?"

The Smoking Man looked at him inscrutably, pulled in another lungful of smoke and expelled it. "As I said before, don't worry about it!"

*************************************************

When Sharon arrived at the emergency room of Dominican Hospital in Santa Cruz, she was taken immediately into a "room," and the curtain pulled. She lay on the hospital bed crying. When the doctor came in to do an internal examination, she started yelling. "I want Dr. Scully!" she screamed. "Don't touch me! Don't touch me! I want Dr. Scully!" 

The nurse administered an injection of Ativan and restrained her with straps. The yelling continued until Scully and White showed up, breathless from running from the parking lot. "I'll do the exam," Scully told the doctor brusquely and shoved him aside. She undid the restraints and patted the girl's hand. "It's OK, Sharon, I'm here and everything will be all right."

When she ran a gloved hand, gently, between the girl's thighs, White asked her, "should I leave?"

Sharon said, "No! Please stay!" So he found a spot on a chair and pulled out a small notebook and pen, which he kept, and a microcassette recorder, which he handed to Scully.

"Exam shows bruising on the inner thighs," Scully remarked. 

"Now, this might hurt, Sharon. I'm going to be using this speculum to take a look inside."

"It's OK," the girl said.

"Further up, blood on the vulva and the vagina...is lacerated. Surface lacerations, no sutures required. Now that's odd..."

"What?" asked the ER doctor.

"Cervix is swollen and engorged... and uterus..." she palpated Sharon's abdomen gently. "My God," she said in a low voice. "I believe this young woman is three months pregnant."

"Could be fibroids," she added, "although I don't think so. We'll run a pregnancy test right away."

"I'm pregnant!" said Sharon bitterly. "He made me pregnant. Him. The Devil. It's growing fast, inside me. You'll have to take it out right away!"

Scully glanced at White. "Have you had intercourse within the last three or four months, Sharon?" she asked gently.

The girl shook her head. "No. I've been celibate since I left Jason, about a year ago. You'll have to run an MRI and an ultrasound. Then you'll see! It's the Devil's baby. It'll be marked, it'll be abnormal!"

Scully shook her head, turning to White. "Psych," she mouthed soundlessly; he left in search of a psychiatrist. She held Sharon's hand. "Sharon," she said, very gently, "it's impossible for you to be three months pregnant from a rape tonight. You do see that, don't you? I know that you are very traumatized from the worst experience that can befall a woman. If your test comes back positive, sure, you can get an abortion, no problem. But Sharon...you were already pregnant when you were raped. And your rapist must seem like the Devil to you; that's understandable. We're going to get the best counseling for you, to try to help you over this trauma. AND, Sharon, we're going to try our level best to find and prosecute this bastard, OK?"

The girl shook her head. "You can't find him. I tell you, he's the Devil!"

"Here's the Doc, Dana," White said, appearing between the curtains. Scully pulled down Sharon's nightgown. 

"Here's the doctor to see you, now, Sharon," she said soothingly. "Doctor? What doctor?" she asked, suspiciously.

The psychiatrist came in and took her hand. "I'm Dr. Bayer, Sharon," he said.

"Hi," she said flatly.

"I understand you've had a terrible trauma...do you want to talk about it with me?"

She sat up in bed and eyeballed him. "No," she said.

"Maybe it's because it happened too recently. Do you know who it was, who raped you?"

"Yes. The Devil."

"Oh. What did this Devil man look like?"

She described him: "he was tall, and tanned, and muscular; he had longish black hair and a neat, uh, beard and mustache. He looked a bit like my ex, Jason."

"I see. And Jason's last name is Green?"

She snorted. "In a pig's eye. That's my name! His is Throughgood."

Sharon immediately heard whispering behind the curtain, and it rustled. Then she could hear White speaking in low tones into his radio: "Pick up a Jason Throughgood for questioning, please. No, I don't have an address for him. Uh-uh. Just get him!"

She sat up again, crying fiercely, "It wasn't him! It wasn't Jason! I can't get you people to understand!"

Scully, listening on the other side of the curtain, had begun to have serious doubts about her position. Sharon heard more whispering. Scully seeming to be trying to convince White of something, a third party talking. Then Scully and White appeared, drawing open the curtain. "You can go, Dr. Bayer," said Scully curtly.

"What do you man, 'I can go'? I wasn't finished with my examination!"

"You are now," said White mildly, pushing him gently aside.

"I am a psychiatrist and can certify this young woman insane, have her committed. I was on the verge--"

"--of nothing," said White, who looked at the doctor with a dangerous glint in his eye. "I am a Federal agent, and so is this lady, Dr. Scully. We are overriding your decision! Please get out," he said, holding the curtain open.

Dr. Bayer shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "All right, who am I to care that she's delusional --" his voice trailed off.

"You guys believe me?" asked Sharon in wonder.

"Yes, sweetie," said Scully, smoothing her hair, "yes, we do. I'll explain more in the car."

"I'm coming with you?" Sharon asked hopefully.

"Yes, you are. Do you think you could ride in a wheelchair to the parking lot? I can pull the car up and then lay you across the back seat.

The girl nodded. "Yes. That would be fine."

White wheeled her out of the ER and into the parking lot. "What time is it?" she asked.

"Oh, just after 11:00."

"I have two weeks," she remarked.

"Till when?"

"Oh...nothing...I'll tell you later. Look, here comes Scully with the car."

They loaded her in with great care, piling on blankets purloined from the ER; although it was a warm night, she shivered. Scully put the top up and turned on the heat.

"OK, the thing that made me change my mind, Sharon, was the test that came back with your pregnancy results. Yes, you're positive, yes, it looks like you're maybe 2 and a half months along, but the odd thing was that your hormones were all out of whack. And there was this... unexpected...protein in your bloodstream that wasn't even human. Hell, it wasn't even ANIMAL. It was something else, almost like an alien protein...but not quite."

"I hope you don't think I was impregnated by aliens."

"Nope. For one thing, the rape you described wasn't at all like a typical, or even atypical, abduction scenario. Aliens were not involved here. You were not abducted. Your uterus and your ovaries were, however. Your infant-to-be is not human, Sharon. I'm going to have to run some more tests, maybe ultrasound, or MRI as you asked, in order to get a look at it. Sharon, I, we, believe you."

They made it home in record time, Scully putting the "pedal to the metal," so eager was she to get Sharon home. The girl walked gingerly into the house at Steamer's, wincing with every step.

"Sharon, you have several choices. You can take our bed upstairs, or there's an extra mattress in Mulder's room that you can have; I'll put that on the floor downstairs in the living room so you don't have to walk up and down stairs; or you can sleep on the couch; or I can throw Mulder and whomever he might be cuddling with up there out, and you can have his bed," Scully said.

"Oh, I'll just sleep on the couch. I've slept on it before, and it's pretty comfy," the girl said.

"Well, OK," Scully said doubtfully. "I'll get you lots of blankets and a foam pad, pillows to prop you up."

"Thank you," the girl said.

Scully went bustling around collecting the stuff. Sharon sank into a kitchen chair. White asked her, "Have you had anything to eat lately?"

"I had something earlier, but I threw it up," she said.

"Well, can I get you anything?"

"Maybe some crackers and a 7-up," she said doubtfully. He shook his head. 

"You've got morning sickness, haven't you?"

She hung her head. "Yes."

"Here are the saltines and seven-up, Sharon. Try to eat and drink some."

Dutifully, she cautiously ate a few crackers and drank about half the 7-up.

Scully came back with the bedclothes. "Had to hijack some of these," she said tightly. Upstairs, a sleepy Mulder could be seen at the top of the steps rubbing his eyes, with Alex Krycek behind him, his arm across Mulder's naked chest.

"You took my blankie," Mulder said accusingly.

Sharon looked at him, and Krycek, and laughed. "You guys! I'm so glad to see you both!"

"Mulder, the 'blankie' is for Sharon. She's staying here tonight. She was the victim of a crime, and I'll tell you more in the morning."

Scully arranged the bedding on the couch. "Come over here, Sharon, and lie down. That's right. There's a bathroom on this floor; you know about that, right?" The girl nodded and walked painfully to the makeshift bed. She lay down.

"I'm so tired," she said simply, and closed her dark-fringed brown eyes.

*************************************************

"Let's go upstairs and fuck some more," Krycek said to Mulder, while they were still connected. "There's no one home but the Gunmen, and they won't bother us."

"Horny, aren't we?" Mulder asked. He caressed Krycek's ass and pulled out.

Krycek turned to him, passion in his eyes. "I want to kiss you everywhere, Mulder. I want to make you come, just by kissing you."

Mulder looked at him, studying the planes of the most beautiful face he'd ever seen, the large, wide emerald eyes starred with heavy black lashes, the soft hair, the perfect cupid's bow mouth. He took Krycek's face in his hands and kissed him deeply, his tongue exploring the depths of Krycek's mouth and throat. Krycek's tongue met his and kissed him back. 

"Ah," said Mulder, and he felt his cock engorge again, and there was Krycek's cock, bumping against his, big as day. "Let's go upstairs now," breathed Krycek.

Once in the room, Krycek instructed Mulder to lie on the bed, spread-eagled. "What're you gonna do?" Mulder asked lazily.

"I'm gonna kiss you from head to toe, Mulder. Start with the hair -- cute hair."

"Thank you."

He kissed the top of Mulder's head, and the older man giggled. Then he kissed his forehead, his closed eyes, nose, ears and played with his lips, nipping and sucking the full lower lip, licking inside his lips, his mouth, tonguing his throat. Mulder's tongue met his and he kissed Krycek back, his tongue exploring Krycek's mouth, sucking the cupid's bow, going deep in his throat.

Krycek pulled away and kissed Mulder's chin, his throat, his shoulders, lifted his arms and inhaled his fragrance, kissed his chest, lipped and bit and sucked his nipples till they were hard, licked down the center of his chest to his navel and licked and sucked that. Then down, down into the bush. He encountered Mulder's cock briefly. "Suck me," said Mulder. "Suck me, Alex."

In answer the younger man dove lower, licked and sucked the insides of Mulder's thighs. Mulder groaned. Krycek licked his way down Mulder's leg. When he came to his toes, he licked, nipped and sucked those. Mulder moaned. Krycek repeated the process on the other leg and foot.

"If you don't suck me now, I'll shoot you," Mulder murmured.

Krycek laughed, licked his way back up to Mulder's cock and swallowed it whole, his throat massaging the head. Mulder gasped and gripped the bed.

Krycek licked up and down the shaft of Mulder's cock and swirled his tongue around the head, tasting the bitter/salty pre-come and sighing. Mulder moaned. The younger man swallowed his cock again and began to move in a rhythm. Mulder's hand found Krycek's head and he buried his hand in his hair, gripping it. "That's it, that's it!" he gasped.

When Mulder came he arched his back convulsively, screamed and shot a load of hot come down Krycek's throat. When his spasms had ebbed, he rolled on his side. "C'mere, Alex!"

Krycek lay down on the bed next to him. Mulder kissed him deeply, tasting himself in Alex. "Put your arm around me. We'll embrace and kiss and I'll jack you off. Sound all right?"

"It sounds wonderful," said Krycek huskily.

Mulder grasped Krycek's cock and pumped it, slowly at first then rapidly. Krycek groaned, held on tight to Mulder and bucked his hips, fucking Mulder's hand. Mulder stroked and stroked and Krycek writhed, and Krycek looked into Mulder's eyes, said, "I love you!" and came, spurting all over Mulder's hand, his belly and the sheets.

They lay together for a long time and drifted off. When, a couple of hours later, Scully knocked on their door, and then, impatiently, again and louder, it was with difficulty that Krycek and Mulder disengaged themselves, found robes and answered the door to see Scully.

*************************************************

The household was awakened in the early morning hours by a loud knock at the front door. Sharon rose with difficulty to answer it. She opened the door to a huffing and puffing Skinner. Oh-oh, she thought. This one's angry.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked genially, taking in her nightgown and long wild blonde hair that almost reached her hips.

"I'm Sharon Green. Glad to meet you, Mr...Skinner, is it? Come in!"

"Yes, it is Skinner!" he answered, "uh, Sharon. You are THE Sharon Green?"

She smiled. "I suppose so. Can I make coffee or tea for you?"

"No, don't worry about that. Just have a seat. I understand you are a crime victim."

She nodded.

Skinner took the steps two at a time and ran down the hall pounding on doors. Sleepy faces peeped out. "I want you all downstairs. Now!"

When they had assembled, he said, "I received the report filed by Agent White via email at 12 AM, and I haven't been able to sleep all night. Devils, Satan, rape, alien children...are you all crazy?" He looked pointedly at Sharon.

"No, Sir," said White, "We're not, and I stand behind everything I said. We can prove it. Sharon's test for HGC is pretty good evidence. We can get more."

Scully nodded. "Sir, we're looking at a deadline here of two weeks from today. We can get you all the proof you need by then, or shortly thereafter."

"OK," said Skinner, "but the other thing is: I thought I told you agents not to cohabit, and I see evidence everywhere that you are. You, Scully, and White, share a room, and you, Mulder, are shacking up with Krycek...and God knows who made this girl pregnant," he said, glaring at White, Mulder and the Lone Gunmen, these last who felt honored.

Sharon suddenly turned green and ran to the bathroom. They heard her retching her guts out, then running the water for a long time, before she came back to the meeting.

"Well, it's obvious that she's pregnant," observed Skinner, "it's just not clear who got her that way." He rested his chin in his hands for a moment. "OK, agents. You can all stay on the case."

They heaved a collective sigh.

"And you have pretty much carte blanche, do what you want, but I'd better see evidence on my desk by this time next month."

"Oh, Sir, you'll have it this time next two weeks!" exclaimed Scully.

"OK, Agent Scully. OK, people, I'm leaving now. Just watch it with the funny stuff, OK?"

"OK," she said softly. White squeezed her hand surreptitiously.

Skinner took his leave without favoring them with one smile.

"Skinhead," Krycek observed, after he'd left. Langly snickered.

"No names!" said White. "OK, guys and women, here's our game plan. Mulder, I'm pulling you off University duty. Teach one class tomorrow, go home, call Elliott Aronson up and tell him you're sorry, but you've been offered a lucrative private-sector job -- don't laugh -- and I'll do the rest. Then you'll be working with Scully. Scully, you're strictly on-call at the Student Health Center. If it gets too busy there, I'll pull you. Krycek, you work closely with Mulder and Scully and myself. We're your new employers, not that smoking bastard, OK?

Krycek barely nodded. 

"Lone Gunmen, remain at the house, or close by, and keep an eye on Sharon. If she needs anything, you get it for her, OK?"

"Of course," said Frohike with dignity; Byers and Langly nodded.

"Sharon," he said with sympathy, "you're to do whatever it is you need to do. I don't have a complete understanding of your role in this but I suspect it's really...major. Just take care of yourself, and these guys will help care for you while the rest of us are out."

"I've authorized three plainclothes detectives to guard the house, working in shifts. They will each come and identify themselves so that you can see who they are. If anyone should see or hear anything at all out of the ordinary, go immediately to one of these men. You can call me, of course, at the station or on my cell phone, my radio -- I'll leave a radio here -- or Scully, or Mulder."

"Krycek, I'm pulling you out of the Left Hand Path meeting that was supposed to be day after tomorrow. The way things have shaped up, it's way too dangerous. I realize that your employer may have wanted you to go, but we're your employer now." He smiled at Krycek.

"I know, of course, all about your career as an FBI agent before you veered off the straight and narrow."

Krycek looked down.

"I know, too, how much danger we're placing you in with the Consortium. And I appreciate your sacrifice on our behalf." Krycek looked up, wide green eyes meeting piercing blue ones. 

If I liked men... White thought wonderingly. If I liked straight men...thought Krycek

"It's OK," said, simply.

"All right then. I'm off. Scully, you had some business to discuss with Sharon?"

They moved toward the couch and Sharon sat down gingerly. "Are you feeling any better?" Scully asked the girl.

She smiled. "Actually, much better, except for this nausea."

Scully nodded. "Your lacerations are very superficial and as the vagina is very self-healing, should be better in a few days. The nausea, I'm afraid, will be with you for a while. Do you still want an abortion, Sharon?"

"Yes! The sooner the better! Should I go down to Planned Parenthood?"

"And subject you to those picketers? No way! I'll do it myself!"

"But you're a Catholic!"

"It doesn't matter. This case is very different. I feel that God would have me do this, Sharon."

"Thank you, Scully," she said gratefully.

*************************************************

"Still no word from our operatives on the Krycek case," remarked The First Elder, swirling the ice in his glass.

The tall man stood and stretched, then pulled out a Morley and lit it with a hiss of his lighter. And there won't be, he thought. Clever, clever Alex. Deadly Alex. His Alex. He had to admire him. "Maybe they had a flat," he said, expelling smoke.

There was choked laughter from someone. The First Elder glared at him. "This isn't funny," he continued in his grating, high-pitched monotone. "If something happened to them, we need to get others on the case. And take your boy-toy off of it!"

"I've already taken care of it," said the tall man. "I left Krycek a voice mail and an email. He is off the case! And I'll arrange for another operative to fill in for him."

"My God, man!" exclaimed the Well-Manicured Man, realization seeping in. "Krycek killed those two, didn't he?"

"We can't prove that," said the tall man, dragging on his Morley. "It doesn't matter anyway. They were expendable," he said coldly.

"You let your boy get away with murder, don't you?" the WMM asked.

"And who was it who trained him to kill?" the tall man asked.

*************************************************

Robert Highland, aka Sparrowhawk, was glad he'd gotten this case. It was extremely lucrative, and Mr. Spender was most ingratiating and thoughtful, allowing him to do anything but "hurt Fox Mulder or Alex Krycek." He'd seen pictures and/or videos of all the principals, and had read their bios. He was impressed by the physical beauty of the women, especially that of Sharon Green. He must arrange some way to have her.

The Sparrowhawk was younger than that idiot Fielding had been when Krycek got him. He was of medium height and very buff build, with short brown hair and brown eyes. Those eyes could look very soft and puppy-dog-ish, and he took frequent advantage of this. People didn't take him for the cold-blooded killer he was until it was too late.

Now he crept toward the Soquel estate through the fields. He performed a thorough reconnaisance and found no traces of any bodies. Wonder where he put 'em? He thought. He observed the Indian dude feeding the horses. Must be that Bill Runningwater.

Highland let himself in through the open back door and looked around. It was a nice spread. The Old Man kept his people well. There was a wet bar, palatial columns, antique furniture, gold fixtures. He found in the master bedroom the ground radar apparatus, which he quickly dismantled. He looked till he found what he was looking for on the back bedroom wall: the gun rack. Chuckling, he lifted the AK-47 from the wall. This would be Krycek's weapon of choice. He shook the rifle; there were about two rounds left in the magazine. He wiped the muzzle of the gun, and got some blue-gray residue on his fingers. It had been fired fairly recently, and not cleaned.

He heard the back door creak open and shut, and he froze. Then he quickly replaced the Kalashnikov in the rack and dove under the bed.

He heard footsteps coming toward him, down the hall. "Who's there?" the Indian asked suspiciously. "Show yourself!" The footsteps came close to the bed and Highland held his breath and hoped the bedspread would conceal him. After what seemed like hours the Indian moved away off down the hall. The spy heard him pick up a phone and speak in low tones to someone. He thought he head the word "Alex." He rolled out from under the bed and unlatched a window, diving out.

He ran quickly to his car. He was not making a report till later. The Old Man would not like having his radar dismantled.

*************************************************

Krycek took the call at 10 AM. "What? Bill, you what? You say there's someone on the place? Did you find him? What about the radar, what'd it say? Really? OK, I'm gonna have to go up there and put it together. You know, I got an email and a voicemail on my cellphone from the Old Man, and he said I was off the case. What do you think of that?"

Mulder was washing dishes. "Trouble at the OK Corral?"

"There was an intruder. He came in and dismantled the ground radar, may have planted bugs. I'll have to check it out," he said grimly.

"I'll go with you," Mulder said quickly. "We have the cops out there watching over Sharon," he said, nodding toward the kitchen window.

The Mercedes arrived at the Soquel estate an hour after Bill Runningwater called. He stood at the entrance to the driveway, looking concerned. He hugged Krycek and then Mulder. "I'm glad you're here," he said.

Krycek looked at once at his guns. "They're all here," he admitted. "Now for the radar!" It took him half an hour to fix it. It was missing a circuit, so he opened one of their computers and used tin snips to cut one out of the motherboard, which he then soldered, using a small soldering iron and a magnifying glass, to the board of the radar assembly.

"I didn't know you could do all that!" said Mulder admiringly. 

"I'm a spy," said Krycek simply.

"OK," he said, "think it works now!"

"Time for lunch!" called Bill. "I made quiche, it's hot out of the oven. There's French bread, salad, and I opened a really good bottle of Chardonnay."

"Where do you keep all your wine?" Asked Mulder idly, spearing a chunk of quiche.

"Oh, downstairs we have a wine cellar. With about 2,000 bottles," Krycek said, swallowing.

Mulder whistled. "Mind if I have another glass, then?"

After eating and cleaning up, they sat and relaxed in the living room. Krycek lay with his head in Mulder's lap. "This is heaven," he said. "So near, and yet so far! Or maybe that's hell?"

"Don't speak of that now," said Bill earnestly.

Mulder sipped on a glass of wine. "Is that your sixth, or your eighth?" asked Krycek critically.

"You tell me, we've opened five bottles so far!"

"Are you drunk, Mulder?"

"Very." said Mulder solemnly. "Can we make a baby, Alex?"

Bill Runningwater twirled his glass and rolled his eyes. "Take that in the bedroom!" he said. "I'm enjoying my day!"

"OK." Krycek stood up first, leaned over and kissed Mulder lingeringly. "Lisitsa!" he said.

They moved to the bedroom. "Mm," said Mulder, nuzzling Krycek's neck. "You smell good, Alex!"

"I think that's eau de Chardonnay."

Mulder pushed him down on the bed, gently. "Now, to use your own expression, I'm gonna suck your brain right out through your cock. You'll never know what hit you!"

He unzipped Krycek and helped him out of his pants and boxers. Then he leaned over him on the bed, kissing him. He kissed him down his neck and chest, unbuttoning buttons as he went, licked and bit his nipples, sucked down the center of his chest, licked his navel, through his thatch of dark pubic hair to his cock. He licked just the head, tasting the pearl of bitter/salty liquid there, and licked down to the root and up to the tip. Krycek moaned. Then, gradually he lowered his mouth and throat upon Krycek, taking him in up to the root.

"Oh, God," said Krycek.

Mulder's mouth plunged up and down on him and Krycek gasped, thrusting himself upward into his lover's throat. When he came, he arched his hips, screamed and shot hot fluid into Mulder's mouth.

Krycek and Mulder lay in each other's arms. "I wanna do you," said Krycek, drowsily, "but I'm gonna fall asleep here...all that wine...I'm sorry."

"That's OK," said Mulder. "Another time." Krycek nodded and drifted off.

He kissed the slumbering form of Alex Krycek with great tenderness, pulling a blanket over him and then going out to the living room.

The phone rang, and Mulder looked at it, riveted. Should he pick it up? Although something warned him, screamed at him not to, he was still pretty drunk. He picked it up.

"Alex?" asked a familiar voice. Oh, God, it was that smoking man, the one who...

"No," he heard himself saying, "This is Mulder."

"Mulder!" the man said sharply. "Fox? This is your father."

"Um, hello," Mulder said lamely.

"Is Alex there? What are you doing there?"

"Um, he's down at the store..."

"No, he's not. Go get him! And you, get the hell out of there!"

Mulder put his hand over the handset and looked around for Bill Runningwater. He was nowhere to be seen. He went into the master bedroom. "Alex," he said, shaking Krycek gently, "Alex! Important phone call!"

"Wha-hmm?" Krycek struggled to a sitting position and Mulder handed him the phone.

"Alex." Oh-oh. "Yes, Sir."

"Alex, I'm starting to get a little angry with you! You never returned my calls and emails about your having been taken off the case, you murdered my spies and now I find you shacked up with Fox Mulder, whom I have expressly, and frequently, forbidden you to see!"

"Oh," said Krycek, intelligently.

"'Oh' is all you can say? I want to hear an apology, and an assurance that none of this will ever happen again! I want you to send Fox Mulder home where he belongs!"

Krycek found his voice. "I'm sorry, Sir, and it will never happen again."

"Now, where have I heard that before? I want you to mean it this time."

"Yes, Sir. I won't let you down!"

I'll bet you will, though, the Smoking Man thought, pulling on a Morley. And when I get back, I'll beat the hell out of you for each transgression, Alex, and keep you on such a tight leash that I'll barely let you take a piss unaccompanied...and maybe not even that.

"OK," he said out loud. "Now, look, Alex, I've got an operative working the case. He won't be bothering you, just getting me the information that you should have been obtaining." Unless you HAVE the information, you sneaking little bastard, he thought, and are holding out on me. "I would like it if you would PLEASE not kill him."

Krycek tried a laugh. "What made you think I killed anyone?"

"Two anyones, Alex, two of them, both missing. Both of their cars were burned but no bodies were recovered."

There was a sharp intake of breath at the other end of the line and the Smoking Man knew he had him. "It's really OK, Alex," he said genially. "I don't miss 'em. They meant nothing at all to me. You're a killer; it's what you do best. Second-best," he amended. "Just leave this guy alone."

"How will I know him?"

"You won't! What's the point of being a spy if people know it? I'm coming home in three weeks, Alex. If you've got all your ducks in a row by then, why, the punishment won't be too bad."

"OK, thank you, Sir," said Krycek dully. He held the handset, staring at it, long after the caller had clicked off.

"What's he want?" Asked Mulder.

"Me, body, mind and soul, for starters," Krycek said glumly.

"Whatsa matter, Alex?" Mulder asked, nibbling on his neck. "You have some kind of relationship with this guy? Just cut it off. Call it quits, and we'll set up house together."

"It isn't that easy," said Krycek, flopping down on a couch. "Mulder, as I've told you before, he has my number. He would cause all kinds of unpleasant things to happen to me if I left him. He's the most powerful man in the world, and he can do whatever he wants. Mulder, I've killed so many people, and committed so many acts of treason, arson and bombing that I could be serving about 50 death sentences soon enough if I left him."

"What does he do to you?" Mulder asked slowly. "He has sex with you, Alex?"

"You know that he does," said Krycek, standing up to look out of the window. "Ah, there's Bill, now! Guess he was feeding the horses." 

"Do you do the things that you do to me, to him?"

Krycek looked at him impatiently. "That's not important!"

"Oh, but it is!"

"Why? Why do you want to suffer unnecessarily, Mulder?" Krycek asked beseechingly. "I'm trying to protect you because I love you. I love you!" He sank to his knees in front of Mulder. "Let me prove it!"

"The way you prove it to him?"

Krycek swore softly in Russian. "You don't understand! I don't love him! I'm like an indentured servant, but worse! He may own my body, but you own my soul! I love YOU, lisitsa, oh love of my life!" He unzipped Mulder and stroked him, causing Mulder's cock to swell and harden. 

"Oh..shit," breathed Mulder.

Krycek took Mulder in his mouth and sucked him, as long and as hard as he ever had. 

"God, Alex, that's so fuckin' good," gasped Mulder. His knees trembled. Soon, under Alex's masterful tonguing, the shaking had spread throughout Mulder's body, and he came in great screaming spasms, shooting so much come into Alex's mouth that it overflowed and ran down the front of his shirt.

Mulder sat down, breathing hard. "Oh my God, Alex," he said in wonder, "that was the best yet!"

"Thank you, lisa," Krycek said. They lay back on the sectional side by side.

"You're sticky," remarked Mulder.

"As are you," Krycek said, smiling.

"He beats me, you know," he said suddenly.

"Huh? Who?"

"The Old Man. Otherwise known as the CSM, the Smoking Man, C.G.B. Spender and various aliases. Your biological father. That man. He beats me."

Mulder looked at Krycek. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, he beats me on a regular basis. With his fists, with a belt, a switch, sometimes even a whip. Here, let me show you." He rose, graceful as a cat, and went to one of the antique chests. He rooted around in it till he found what he was looking for. "Here!" he said, holding up a blacksnake whip and shaking it at Mulder. "Here it is!"

"Jesus Christ," Mulder said fervently. "I don't care if he is my father, I'm still gonna kick his ass next time I see him."

Krycek came back to the couch and sat down. Mulder took his face in his hands and kissed him. "You poor baby," he said. "When this case is resolved, I want you and I to go somewhere...Tahiti, maybe...I want us to run away together. Leave him behind! He is poison!

"Next time he goes out of town for an extended period of time, we can go somewhere together, yes," said Krycek carefully. "But I can never leave him, Mulder. Oh, sometime, maybe not too long from now, when I grow unappealing to him, then he will cut me loose."

"Oh? And when exactly is that gonna happen?"

"Who knows?" Krycek shrugged.

"You are a bit of a stoic and fatalist, Alex," remarked Mulder.

"Well, I am Russian," said Alex Krycek.

"Alex, I am willing to try to..wrest you from his clutches, fight him, kill him if necessary, for you. I would give my life for you."

"And I for you. Mulder..."

"Yes?"

"Fuck me, Mulder. I need to feel you inside me."

"No problem!" Mulder's cock had already begun to harden again in anticipation.

"The lube's in my jacket pocket." 

Mulder went and got it, slicked up his cock. 

"That looks beautiful!" Krycek said, shuddering with anticipated pleasure. He pulled his jeans down. His large cock was rock-hard and standing at attention.

"I'll take you on the floor. Hand and knees, that's great! I'll reach around and get your cock." Mulder slammed into Krycek with no preliminaries and the younger man almost came right then and there. "Do you like me in your ass?" He asked Krycek, tweaking his nipples and grasping his cock, pumping into him.

"Oh God yes. I love you up my ass! I love your huge, beautiful cock in my ass! Fuck me deep, Mulder!"

Mulder complied, stroking Krycek's cock in rhythm to the pumping his ass was receiving. Suddenly Krycek tensed and screamed, spurting come all over Mulder's hand and the rug. Mulder's own orgasm came a moment later, yelling and shooting hot fluid deep into Krycek's ass.

They separated and sprawled on the rug, and this is where Bill Runningwater found them. "Oh sheesh," he said, turning his head. "You guys! Your dicks are hanging out!"

They laughed and got their jeans back up. "One more question I have for you," Mulder asked Krycek softly. "How can you be an employee of that old bastard and of the Federal Government at the same time?"

Krycek looked at him. "I trade off, Mulder. Remember, I am a survivor. I do what I have to do."

"Does that include me?"

"Does what include you? I do you, I spend time with you, because I love you to distraction."

"Thank you," said Mulder, looking into Krycek's wide black-fringed green eyes. "I love you, too." And he kissed him.

"You two!" said Bill Runningwater, dusting a plant.

*************************************************

Scully came back from the Student Health Center at 10:00 and said privately to Sharon, who was playing three-dimensional chess with Frohike (and beating him) that she'd scheduled OR time at Santa Cruz General Hospital later in the afternoon, for the abortion. "Don't you want to run more tests on me, find out if it's true?" Sharon asked.

Scully shook her head. "I already know it's true; I trust you absolutely. Anyway, imaging tests would be completely inconclusive in your case and therefore a waste of time and effort. It'll be done under a strong local anesthetic. We're trying to do just a simple vacuum aspiration, and if that doesn't work, a D & C. "

"Promise me you'll take it out no matter what you have to do," begged the girl.

Scully looked at her steadily. "I promise." she said. "I promise that I will do my level best to take the damned thing out. And it won't necessarily be in one piece."

Krycek and Mulder arrived at 1:00. "Lexy and Mulder!" the girl cried. "Will you come with us to the hospital?"

"I have no problem with that," said Krycek. "You, Mulder?" Mulder shook his head.

"Then let's go," said Scully. "May we take your car, Alex? It probably has the most room."

"Sure," he said.

They drove to the hospital and parked. Sharon seemed to be walking fine, so they let her.

In the OR, Sharon was prepped for the surgery, shaved and scrubbed and administered the anesthetic. A muscle relaxant was injected into her cervix to cause it to dilate. Scully bustled about, doing this and that. When she came back to Sharon fifteen minutes later, she still had not dilated. In fact, her cervix seemed to have clamped down on itself and the opening was the tiniest pinprick. "What the hell?" She muttered. She called in an OB/GYN and he inspected the girl. 

"I've never seen anything like that," he said. "Give her more medicine."

Scully injected more of the relaxant but the cervix kept its tone, remaining tight. "This is impossible," she murmured. 

"Sharon," she said to the girl, "we're giving you some IV Valium. Now, we want you to try to relax."

"I'm relaxed," was the drowsy response.

The IV did not help the situation. Scully said to the OB, "OK. I can't cut into this girl's cervix. I'm trying a saline."

Scully tried and TRIED to stick the needle into Sharon's belly, but it wouldn't go. No, this was impossible.

"I'm trying a C-section now. Call an anesthesiologist!" She told a nurse.

The anesthesiologist arrived to give Sharon general anesthesia, succinylcholine, and the other members of the typical chemical cocktail. After she was under, Scully tried doggedly to cut through Sharon's skin, but the most she could manage was a shallow cut that healed up magically right before her eyes. "I give up!" she cried, throwing the scalpel down.

The OB/GYN tried to excise the skin and was completely unsuccessful. "What's going on here?" he demanded.

Scully said nothing but looked blackly at the floor. "We're taking her to the recovery room now," she said brusquely. She disconnected Sharon's IV's and wheeled her out of the OR.

She was there in the recovery room when Sharon woke up. "It's all right? You got it out?" she asked, hoping against hope.

Scully shook her head. "No, I couldn't get it out. We tried everything, Sharon. I'm so sorry! It's as if it knows what's going on and is preventing us from terminating the pregnancy."

The young woman lay back on the narrow hospital bed. "Then I'll have to die," she said with perfect equanimity.

"What? Are you thinking of hurting yourself?" Scully asked anxiously.

Sharon smiled. "Oh, no. Not me. I love life! What I meant to say is that, I will die. I will die and prevent the pregnancy from coming to term, and everything will be all right."

Scully hugged her. "I hope it doesn't come to that!"

She wheeled Sharon in a wheelchair out to the waiting room where Krycek and Mulder were huddled together looking nervous. They looked up hopefully. Scully shook her head grimly, and their faces fell.

The ride back in the Mercedes was quiet and somber.

When they got back to the house Sharon lay on the couch. "I'm tired," she said, yawning.

"Just a minute," Scully said. She went upstairs and rousted Byers out of his room. "You'll have to sleep in Langly and Frohike's room, on the extra mattress," she said curtly. "I'll bring your bedding." Byers, who had been playing with his laptop at his desk, shook his head but went along willingly.

"You have a room, now, Sharon," Scully called down. "I'll be down in a sec, to get your blankets and stuff..."

*************************************************

Highland sat in his hotel room at the Dream Inn, working on his laptop. It wasn't bad, really, and he had a nice view of all the sunbathing chickies. He'd been able to make the determination that "D-Day," as he'd been calling it, would occur in exactly 13 days. He just didn't know where yet, and he had a feeling the good FBI folks did. He leaned back in his chair and stretched. It seemed that there wasn't a lot at the Soquel estate. Sure, he'd found the probable weapon but had failed to turn up any bodies. Anyway, he got that that was not a priority with the Old Man anyway. Fifteen years ago, Highland had taken the EST training and numerous seminars from that outfit, and it had colored his thinking and his speech forever after.

He had to find and identify the source of the great power that the Consortium was trying to harness. He thought he knew what it was, improbable though it seemed, and privately considered the Consortium men crazy for thinking they could control it or even tap into it.

Anyway, though, he thought he'd concentrate his efforts on the Steamer's Lane house because that was where the knowledge lay. And there was that Sharon Green, reputed to have paranormal powers. And possessed of extraordinary beauty that she apparently didn't even know she had. He must have her, he thought, drumming his fingers on the desk. Hell, he'd settle for that pretty redheaded Scully. He was horny.

Highland turned off his laptop and headed in the direction of the bathroom. He'd have to jack off before he could be of any use to the Old Man.

Mission accomplished, he zipped up and threw on his jacket. It was a bit breezy today. It had taken him a few days to adjust to the Santa Cruz weather after the stiflingly hot New York summer days, but he'd managed.

Highland drove down Chestnut and turned right on Cherry, so he'd be in back of the Steamer's house. There was a plainclothes cop on duty in front, he noticed, as he'd guessed. There was smoke coming from the backyard and he peeked through the slats of the wooden fence. There she was, that Sharon, smoking cigarettes she'd torn the filters off of, which littered the lawn beneath her. Yes, he'd read that she smoked. It still came as somewhat of a surprise to him. He watched her, noting the perfect, slightly aquiline nose, the large brown eyes fringed with dark lashes, full lips, high cheekbones, swanlike neck, beautiful legs, very full breasts, tiny waist, rounded hips and that long, thick wavy bright blonde hair flowing over everything. She was a goddess, and he could hardly tear his eyes away from her. It didn't matter that she smoked --everyone had his or her weaknesses. He wanted to vault the fence and take her there on the lawn.

Then, "Sharon!" someone called, and she ground out her cigarette and went inside, and the spell was broken. Highland collapsed against the fence for just a moment. Then he collected himself and calmly walked around the corner.

He saw that faggot, Alex Krycek, taking the garbage out to the curb. He should box himself up with the orange peels and milk cartons, thought Highland savagely. What good was he, a triple agent, a queer and a boy-toy?

"Afternoon," he said mildly to Krycek. 

"Good afternoon," Krycek returned, giving him a very hard look. 

Highland wondered whether he'd been made.

He walked to the end of the block and chanced a glance back over his shoulder. That Krycek was standing at the curb, looking at him. Highland was suddenly worried. What if the Russian was smarter than he looked? He continued nonchalantly on his way, not looking back. He took a left at the first street he came to, then another left to get to the street his Escort was parked on. He got into the car and thought. Krycek was once considered the deadliest of enemies. What if he still was?

*************************************************

Alex Krycek walked into the house and found Mulder at the kitchen table eating cornflakes. "There's a spy outside the house," he said calmly. "He walked right under the nose of the cop in the car."

"You're sure of this?" Mulder asked, chewing and swallowing.

"Yes."

"What makes you think so? Is he wearing a trenchcoat and a funny hat?"

Krycek sighed. "Very funny! Is that how I dress, Mulder? He's got a green Polo shirt and tan chinos, brown loafers."

"Is he cute? Can I see?"

Krycek parted the kitchen window curtain slightly and Mulder looked out.

"I don't see anything," he said at last. "Except the plainclothes cop." The detective had gotten out of his car, a white Honda, and was stretching in the sun.

"Well, he was there," Krycek said, shrugging. "He's probably parked around here somewhere."

Mulder closed the curtain. "Call White, if you ever have any suspicions, you know that, Alex."

"OK." Krycek called White but got his voice mail. "Krycek." he said into the phone, "I saw an operative who looks familiar, walking past the house. Medium height, strong build like a bodybuilder. Maybe 25, 27 years old. Short brown hair, blue eyes. Rather like you, White," he said conversationally, "but younger and heavier. And mean-looking. Green shirt, tan pants, brown shoes."

Mulder swallowed the last of his cornflakes and smirked. "What does 'mean-looking' mean, Alex?" he asked when Krycek got off the phone.

"It means what it says, Mulder," Krycek said gravely. "I think I'll go mow the lawn or something."

"'K."

At that moment Sharon came in. "There was someone out there watching me," she said gravely.

"Did you see him?" they both asked at once.

"No, but I felt his eyes on me. He is a bad kind of person, I feel."

From his seat in his Escort, Highland filed his neatly-manicured nails and waited for the next development. He heard the back screen door slam and got carefully out of the car, closing the door noiselessly. This time he'd brought his camera with him, the better to photograph the lovely smoking Sharon. It wasn't Sharon, though, but that queer-zoid Krycek, who was engaged in banging the coals around in the Weber, raising a great cloud of dust as he did so. He raised the camera to a knothole in the fence and quickly took some shots of Krycek. At least, this would be evidence for the Old Man that his prized puppy was comfortably ensconced in day-to-day activities around his lover, that Fox Mulder.

Highland realized that his best course of action vis-a-vis obtaining information about the D-Day site was simply to steal it off of someone's laptop, but either a) the house had to be empty; b) everyone had to be deeply asleep; or c) he had to kill everyone. As he was under strict orders not to hurt Mulder or Krycek, the last was impossible. From what he had seen, the first was improbable, so that left plan B. If necessary, he thought, he could probably sneak in and drug their coffee or something. He had an idea that at least one person's computer, possibly a laptop, had the information he wanted, and that it would be bookmarked. He could take all the laptops and go quickly through the hard drives and Internet files of the PCs. Yes, that's what he would do.

Highland crept back to his car and started it.

*************************************************

Sometime later in the afternoon, White called, upset. Krycek took the call. "Yes, there is a spook, White," he said. "Hanging around...I don't know, probably the Old Man. Yes, I imagine he's very dangerous. Uh, I have a handgun, and I brought my AK-47. Yes, I'm the registered owner. Does that matter?...If I think he presents too much of a threat, I'll take care of him...Don't do that? Why not?...OK, I won't do anything till you get here. He's probably gone now, anyway...No, I don't. Why don't we try the local hotels...No, I don't know his real name, but I believe his code name is Sparrowhawk...Well, no, of course not, but we know what he looks like; that's enough...OK, bye."

Krycek hung up the phone and stared thoughtfully at the wall. Mulder wandered in, eating a pear. "Whatcha know?"

"Oh, that was White. He's gonna notify the cops who are supposed to be guarding us, as well as Skinner. I told him I'd go after the spook, whom I recognized, but he told me not to move a muscle till he got here."

"Where do you think he's hiding out?"

"He's at the Dream Inn," said Sharon, who'd just walked in. "That's the picture I keep getting in my mind."

They looked at her, astonished. "Sharon, you never cease to amaze me. Do you happen to know what room?" Krycek asked.

She shook her head. "You guys can find that out easily enough."

Mulder spat pear seeds into his hand. "Gotta call White!" he mumbled.

*************************************************

When the FBI and half the Santa Cruz police force converged upon the Dream Inn an hour later, Highland already saw them coming and was down the fire escape and into his car before they'd arrived at his room. How'd they find me? He thought furiously, putting the Escort in gear and driving away as fast as he could without arousing suspicion. He found a room in an obscure motel in the West Lake district, overlooking the yacht harbor. At least they still didn't have his name. He'd registered at the Dream Inn as Richard Penn.

After registering, he took a stroll and found a drug store at which he purchased a few items, and a decent seafood restaurant. He ordered crab cakes and a shrimp cocktail. He raised a Margarita to the sunlight, admiring the clear yellow-green color of the drink. He'd evaded them once and he'd evade them again. Sure, there'd be a manhunt, but due to the extremely sensitive nature of the case it wouldn't be publicized. And, too, they'd be looking for a man with brown hair and blue eyes.

He walked back to his motel and pulled the hair dye from his bag, and a set of contacts, a package of temporary tattoos, and a tube of glue from his dopp kit. Before too long, he would be blond, with brown eyes and a long scar -- and tattooed, to boot. The tattoos would wear off, or come off with scrubbing and Vaseline.

He'd wear blue jeans today, too, with a cotton fisherman's sweater. He thought the whole getup was rather nautical.

When he'd fixed himself up, he left his motel at about 8 PM to surveil the Steamer's house some more. Bet he wouldn't be made twice by that one-armed rat-bastard.

The beauteous Sharon Green made no appearances. Perhaps she was sleeping. Krycek came out once, to stare, as near as Highland could figure, at the street. The agent snapped one picture, then ducked out of sight behind a hedge until he'd gone.

Then Scully and White arrived at pretty much the same time, but in separate vehicles. They linked hands on their way to the front door. Yes, he was aware that they were lovers. He looked with envy at White. Her pictures didn't do her justice: Scully was gorgeous.

Highland put on his headphones, linked to a listening device. He heard distorted conversation and the sounds of people moving about the house. He really needed to bug the place, but, dammit, there was always somebody THERE. He heard the clear urgent tones of a young girl, must be Sharon, he thought, talking to someone with a distinctively husky voice, that of Krycek, he guessed. Then the Ratboy himself stepped onto the front porch, looking up and down the street. "Highland!" he heard him call. "I know you're out there. When I find you, I'll kill you. Just wanted you to know that."

The spy shrank behind a bush. How did Krycek know his real name? And how did he know he was here? His car was parked unobtrusively down a side street, and he was well hidden. And, anyway, he didn't look like himself! 

While he was puzzling these things out Krycek had returned to the house and was writing furiously on a piece of printer paper: "Don't speak above a whisper! He is out there!" Then he took up his Kalashnikov.

"Damned if I'll whisper, and put that damned thing down!" said White irritably. Unclipping his Sig from its holster, he motioned Scully and Mulder out with him. "Mulder, go right. Scully, stay with me. Left, left!" 

 They ran over to the unmarked car, said a few words then were down the street quickly and quietly, shining their flashlights here and there. Highland cursed under his breath. When they'd run far enough away, he got up and ran through yards, vaulting fences and hedges in his way. He made it to his car barely blowing, unlocked it, got inside and started it up with a roar. Obviously, he wasn't going to get anything done tonight.

Well, tomorrow was the Left Hand Path meeting. He might, just might be able to find out what he needed to know there. In the meantime, he already had enough to bust that faggot Ratboy who'd had the temerity to make a threat against him. As Highland drove down West Lake, he could feel a plan growing in his mind: bust, then torture and then kill Krycek. He smiled, liking it.

*************************************************

Sharon had an extremely unpleasant dream that night: she was being chased by a man with blond hair and tattoos who metamorphosed before her frightened eyes into the father of her Satanic child. "No!" she screamed. "NO!" The man caught up with her and spun her around. 

"Sharon, Sharon!" he chided gently. "You should know better than to be frightened of me! Your lover! The father of your blessed babe," he said, touching her abdomen. "Who is doing splendidly, by the way, despite your efforts to the contrary! No, Sharon, you must not try to abort my child!"

She spat at him. "I'd rip out your cursed monster with my own hands if I could do it!" she said.

He laughed. "Such a little spitfire! I love to see that in you! You will need to be that tough to be my Lady," he said, shaking her gently. "And you shall be, beautiful and terrible beyond words. All shall worship you!"

She gazed at him, full of hate. "I will never be your lady," she said finally; "I would rather die."

He laughed again. "No, you wouldn't, my misguided little Wiccan! I will see you again quite soon. In the meantime -- don't even think about defying me, Sharon! It can't be done! By the way, don't think I can't have you again whenever I want! I'm only holding off now because of the health of the child. But there will be many more opportunities ahead of us. I have marked you as mine. Here, I'll mark you again."

He drew with his index finger on the terrified and transfixed girl's chest an upside-down pentagram, and again on her forehead. "All shall know you now," he said. He laughed once more, and faded away.

Sharon woke up mid-scream. She had thrown the bedclothes off and she was drenched in sweat. "What's the matter, dear?" Scully asked, cradling her head. "What happened?"

The girl described in halting tones her nightmare. When she came to the part about the pentagrams, Scully halted her, looking at her strangely, then undoing her nightgown to look at her chest. "Did you scratch yourself, honey?" she asked, in a strange tone of voice.

"No...why?" 

Scully shook her head. "Just a sec, I'll get you a glass of juice or something," she said, and ran and got White. "What do you make of this?" she asked softly.

"These are perfect upside-down pentagrams. Sharon, did you do this to yourself?"

"No, I didn't. I just had this dream..."

"From now on, I sleep with her, in the same room," said Scully firmly. "With my gun drawn."

White nodded. "Pay me a visit from time to time?" he asked hopefully.

Scully smirked. "You wish."

*************************************************

Mulder showed up for school half an hour early, so he went to visit Elliott Aronson in the psych department office. Aronson looked frazzled, up to his ears in paperwork. "Sharon Green's called in sick again for the fourth day running, and the place is going to hell! Do you have any idea what she has?"

Mulder raised his eyebrows, shrugged and spread his hands. Aronson sighed.

"Well, anyway, Dr. Mulder, thought you might like to know your lesson plan's been approved...I think it's great you're making these freshmen read fairly heavy stuff, like Freud and James."

"Thank you," Mulder murmured. He felt guilty, knowing this would be his first and last class.

He walked into Thimann Lecture Hall 3. As before, he was impressed by its sheer vastness. Although he was twenty minutes early, there were students occupying nearly every seat. He plopped his books down on a table and began to write on the blackboard: Dr. Fox Mulder, Psych 1. Required Reading: and then a long list of books and articles, and his office number and hours.

Two young people, a man and a woman, came forward and introduced themselves as his graduate student teaching assistants, and he wrote their names on the board too.

He began his lecture: "Hi, I'm Dr. Fox Mulder. Everyone calls me Mulder, so you may too. This is Pysch 1, Introductory Psychology. Psychology is the study of the human mind, and of human behavior. To the ancient Greeks, the "psyche," which is the root word of "psychology," meant literally "soul," but they were not speaking of an immortal soul but simply of the mind, of that which makes us human."

His students listened raptly, some furiously taking notes, some leaning forward, a couple chewing gum and, in the front row, one young woman batting her mascara-enhanced lashes at him. 

When the lecture was over he was deluged by students all wanting to know this, that or the other thing. He took their questions, patiently, one at a time. He got back to the Department Office eventually, and Aronson was there at the front desk. He was in a tizzy. "Sharon just called in saying she wanted two weeks off!" he fumed. "That's impossible! Right at the start of Fall Quarter is the busiest time of the year and she knows it!"

Mulder suggested, "Maybe she had some urgent personal matter to attend to."

"Maybe she did, but she's my right arm and I can't make do without her!"

Mulder shook his head. "Hire a temp."

*************************************************

The tall man looked down from his penthouse suite at the Ritz Hotel, overlooking Picadilly. The street life of London interested him as much as the street life of Paris, which is to say, not a lot, but he stood dragging on a Morley and eyeing it idly anyway. He'd received a disturbing report from his operative in California, and he wondered whether he should call a meeting.

He turned and shouted over his shoulder, "BARRY!"

"Yes, sir?" A dapper young English lad, perhaps 19, poked his head into the living room.

"Barry, call all the members of the Consortium, ask them to come up for an impromptu meeting. Arrange for tea, drinks, sandwiches and the like to be sent up. Just tell them to be here within an hour's time. Informal, you know."

The lad nodded vigorously. "Very good, Sir," he said, and disappeared.

The tall man sat down in an easy chair, reached for his whiskey sour and smiled. Very efficient, these British. And that boy was very tender, very nice indeed. He even knew how to make a proper sour.

Ah, Alex, Alex, what shall I do with you?

*************************************************

Krycek forgot to turn off his cell phone. When its shrilling woke him at 3 AM, he stumbled naked out of bed, hit his shin, cursed some more and went through three pockets before he remembered it was on his nightstand. Mulder groaned and turned over in bed.

"Krycek," the younger man croaked into the phone.

"Alexei," said the man softly, but it was not Bill Runningwater.

"Yes, Sir," he said automatically, "Is there a problem, sir?" 

"I'm beginning to think that you're the problem, Alex! Where are you?"

"At home."

"Put Bill Runningwater on."

"He's not here."

"Oh? I just called the house phone two minutes ago. He was there."

Silence. Oh, God, thought Krycek.

"Alex, you are really beginning to try my patience! You are supposed to be at home doing essentially NOTHING, not out impeding our investigations and consorting with the enemy."

Idiot, thought Krycek, you have no idea who the enemy really is.

"Yes, Sir," he said automatically.

There was the hiss of a lighter. "Put Fox Mulder on."

"He's not here."

"Alex, I promise you this: when I get home, you are going to be in a world of pain."

That, Krycek was sure, was a given. "Yes, Sir." Mulder had woken up a little and he was regarding Krycek out of one eye.

"Alex, what am I going to do with you? You keep screwing up."

"I don't know," said Krycek honestly, and miserably.

"Alex, I want to hear that you love me, that you will never do anything like this to me again."

"I love you, sir, and I won't let you down again," said Krycek, aware that Mulder was looking at him but unable to say anything else.

"Give me the phone!" said Mulder in a low voice.

"That's good to hear, Alex...I hope you carry through with this. I'm looking forward to seeing you in a few weeks' time...there's no one else quite like you, Alex."

"Give me the phone!" said Mulder, between clenched teeth.

"I'm thinking that the punishment won't be too terrible, unless of course you backslide on me again."

Mulder grabbed the phone and spat his words into it.

"Listen to me, you old bastard! Alex hates you and always will! It's me he loves! And you can't have him back! All you do is hurt him! How could he be in love with--"

There was soft laughter on the other end of the line. "Why Fox, so nice to talk to you again! Sharing our Alex's bed, are we?"

Mulder was silent.

"Fox, a bit of avuncular advice: don't take your father's lover. It isn't good form."

"You took mine, once."

"Ah, but you never cared for her, did you? Now, I care for Alex, very much."

"Yeah, and you sure show it!"

The Smoking Man laughed. "That boy requires a great deal of guidance, and I give it to him."

"By beating the crap out of him every time you see him?"

"If that's what it takes, yes, I do. And he accepts it and appreciates its importance."

"You son of a whore," Mulder said softly.

"I think that is a more apt description of you, Fox."

Mulder, in one of the worst furies of his life, punched the phone "off" and then hurled it across the room. He threw pillows, books, lamps and bric-a-brac at the wall.

"Mulder!" cried Krycek in distress. "Mulder! Stop!" He tried to grab the older man, but was shaken off. Mulder ripped the bedclothes off the bed, tore the clothes off their hangers, pulled shelves off their moorings and kicked in the TV. He was starting on the computer when White, Scully, Sharon and the Lone Gunmen all showed up at the door. White and Scully ran in to try to restrain Mulder. When he shook them off, too, Scully ran for her bag, produced an injectable tranquilizer and she and White held him in one place long enough to administer it.

"Bastards," said Mulder, sinking to his knees. "Bastards, all," and then he wept. Krycek hugged him close and wept, too.

It took Scully and White a while to figure out what had happened. When they had, Scully shook her head in dismay.

"He has some power over you, doesn't he, Alex?" Krycek nodded.

"Poor Mulder...he cares so much," he said sadly. "And I belong to another. Not because I care for him -- I hate him -- but because he forces me to."

"This is America," said White. "There's no slavery here anymore."

"Isn't there?" answered Krycek. "White, I am a criminal, a murderer many times over. The Smoking Man is the only person standing between me and incarceration, at the least."

White was silent. "Do you have to leave here to go to your Soquel estate, Alex?"

"HIS Soquel estate, and no, I'm not going," said Krycek. He stood, looking slim, almost frail, but resolute.

"The consequences are terrible if you stay," said White. "That's in addition to the danger we are putting you into just by being a member of our team."

"I don't care. My place is here, with Mulder and you guys...and gals!"

White nodded. "You are very courageous, Alex Krycek! My estimation of you has come a long way since that night in the jail when I struck you! For which I've never apologized...I'm sorry!"

Krycek smiled. "No offense."

Sharon took Krycek's hand and Scully did an unexpected thing: she hugged him.

Mulder, groggy from the effects of the sedative, rose shakily and walked in a wobbly fashion toward Alex, who met him halfway. Finally Mulder pitched into his embrace. He buried his face in Krycek's chest. "I just can't live without you, Alex," he said.

"I feel the same way about you, Mulder," said Krycek, running his fingers through Mulder's hair.

Scully looked at White and the others and smiled. "Let's leave," she mouthed, and they all went back to their respective rooms.

"Alex, I want you to fuck me," Mulder begged. "I want to feel you inside me, deep, deep." Krycek looked into Mulder's large hooded hazel eyes. "I'll do anything you ask," he said huskily. "Get on the bed on your back, Mulder. I know you're drowsy. That's good. Now, I'll shove this pillow under your hips, doubled, just so... that's good."

"Now for the lube," he muttered. Having produced it, he knelt in front of Mulder slicking his cock. They both stood at attention. Krycek smeared some goop on Mulder's anal area and his cock, for good measure.

"That feels so good," breathed Mulder.

"Do you want me to widen you first?" asked Krycek, slicking his fingers.

"No, I want your cock in my ass right now!"

"OK," said Krycek, lodging it firmly against the tight ring of muscle then pressing it firmly in. First the head -- "Oh, God," gasped Mulder. Then half the length. Mulder moaned. Then Krycek's entire cock buried itself in Mulder's heat, and Mulder groaned. "Oh, Alex!"

Kneeling, Alex could balance enough to lean forward to kiss Mulder, long and deeply, tongue exploring the reaches of the older man's mouth. The he sat up, grasping Mulders' cock and pumping him to the rhythm of the very thorough fucking he was giving him. Mulder looked him in the eyes, deeply, all during the fucking.

Krycek found this incredibly erotic and it wasn't long before the familiar heat began to flood him and he was coming, coming inside Mulder, and yelling with the orgasm, and then Mulder gasped and stiffened, crying out and shooting hot come all over his hand and his belly.

Krycek fell forward onto Mulder, who was still breathing hard. "Each time...it gets...better," he said between breaths.

They lay side by side on the bed.

"Krycek."

"Mulder."

"Again, I want us to run away together. Could we go back to that ranch, do you think?"

"I don't think. He's got it guarded. I couldn't go back there without his permission."

"It's a pisser, isn't it?"

"What is?"

"Our situation." Mulder grasped Krycek's slim hand in his.

"Yeah."

*************************************************

At 4:00 AM, when everyone in the Steamer's house was asleep, Robert Highland, aka Sparrowhawk, vaulted the Sharon-watching fence and picked the simple lock on the backdoor. Moving quietly, he placed bugs behind pictures, on the undersides of the couch and chairs, in the phones. Then he went in search of the computers. Several people seemed to have laptops, and there was one PC. He opened the CPU cabinet and took out the hard drive. If there were passwords for the Internet accounts, he could get them easily enough.

He paused to have a look at the sleeping Sharon...maybe...but she and Scully were in the same room. He was shocked to notice that Sharon had red marks on her chest and forehead; it marred her otherwise perfect beauty. While he was staring at her, she opened her large brown eyes and sat up. "You!" she yelled. "Get out!", then "Help, help, help!"

Well, that tore it. Highland ran as fast as he could through a house that was suddenly awakened by the girl's screams. He pelted out the back door, vaulted the fence again and was in his car. He was away before anyone really realized what was going on. Or so he thought.

The household pretty much got up for the day then, going about their morning ablutions. Krycek and Mulder shared a shower, taking turns sucking each other off. At the breakfast table Scully eyed them. "You guys are so noisy," she complained. "You sound like a bunch of wolverines in heat."

Krycek grinned. "We are!"

"Um, guys?" asked White.

They all looked at him expectantly, some eating, some playing with their bacon and eggs.

"That Left Hand Path thing is supposed to be this afternoon at 4. I'm just bringing it up because if anyone has any ideas about going, you can just forget it. If I find out that anyone has gone to it, there will be hell to pay," he said sternly.

Mulder looked at him and burst out laughing.

"I fail to see what's so funny!"

Mulder shook his head. "Aw, you had to've been there!"

There were giggles. Sharon looked at her plate and was silent. Mulder looked at her, speculatively. Later, he asked her privately, "Are you planning on going to that meeting?"

She nodded. "I pretty much have to. I need to know what they're up to!"

"Well, I'm going too, then!" said Mulder stoutly. "And me, too!" said Krycek, hanging on his arm.

"I don't want you to go," she said, "it will be very dangerous. But it will be nice to have you," she amended, "Mulder and Lexy. My two favorite people, I think."

They hugged her. "We'll tough it out together," Mulder promised.

*************************************************

The members of the Consortium met in the tall man's penthouse suite.

"It seems," he began, "that, number one, our operative has already been identified, and number two, that he is being pursued by the FBI. He changed his appearance and was still identified. Either someone is leaking information to the FBI --" his gaze swept the room "-- Or this young woman, this Sharon Green, who is alleged to have psychic powers, is simply seeking him out...in a paranormal manner."

The First Elder remarked, "If this is true, we need to get rid of the girl."

"Or shut her up somehow," agreed the Well-Manicured Man. "What if, for example, we simply had her kidnapped, just until this 'D-Day' has come and gone?"

The Smoking Man, his eyes narrowed, pulled deeply on a Morley and expelled smoke. "No, I don't like that idea," he said at last. "Too much risk involved. I think we'll simply have the girl terminated."

"My God, man! Have you no heart?" cried the WMM; there was a general stir in the room.

"No, I don't," the Smoking Man said shortly. "I find it an inconvenience."

*************************************************

Highland received the call from On High early in the morning. He was to terminate the girl, Sharon. She knew too much. Too bad such a luscious thing had to go, he thought. Well, he could still have his way with her, preferably when she was alive. Bet she'd be a fury in bed...he'd pick her up after the Left Handers meeting, bring her here, have his fun and shoot her.

Unless he wanted to kill her in a more creative fashion.

He re-set his alarm for 6:00 AM. Couldn't get too early a start on these things.

*************************************************

"Langly."

"Frohike."

"How many games of three-dimensional chess can two people play?"

Langly pushed his scraggly white locks behind his ear and his black-framed glasses up on his nose. "Is that supposed to be answered, Frohike, like a mathematical question, or is it merely rhetorical?"

Frohike sighed, leaned back and rubbed his eyes behind his glasses. "I don't know. It just seems that we could be of more use than we are."

"Feeling useless, Frohike?" someone behind him remarked. It was Byers. 

"Yeah. All we do all day is consume. There's nothing more for us to contribute &#8211; and we were wrong about the date of the Big Day."

"That's because we were misled by that website. Not our fault," said Langly, unwrapping a strawberry sucker.

"You know," said Byers. It's not necessarily a good thing that we know."

They turned around to look at him. "How so?" asked Langly, popping the sucker in his mouth.

Byers sighed. "It puts us in great danger."

"Yeah, so?" Frohike asked. "I thought we were all in this together. What are you suggesting we do, take the money and run?"

"Are you sure you're not feeling this way just 'cause you lost your room over this girl?" Langly asked.

Byers rolled his eyes. "No. No to both. I'm merely suggesting that we rethink our position here. We have a lot of money, guys. We don't need to be dabbling in Satanism and maybe getting turned into goop over it!"

"Oh," said Frohike, with a dangerous glint in his eye, "so, Byers, what you're saying is, we can turn our back on our friends who need us, we can let Mulder down and turn tail like the cowards we are, in order to MAYBE save our own skins?"

"Byers, I'm ashamed of you!"

"Yeah, we foo," said Langly, shifting the sucker around in his mouth.

"How can you think about quitting on Mulder!" cried Frohike. "And on all of us! This is a life-and-death situation we're facing here? or worse," he added bleakly.

Sharon had come up to them and was standing behind Byers.

"It would be worse than death," she said quietly, "to have to live in a world ruled by that evil entity. But I would not blame you, any or all of you, if you should decide to back out. I know you didn't plan on it being like this?I know you thought it was a routine X-File where the worst enemy is that Smoking Man, Lexy's dark master; or unfriendly aliens ?it isn't your fault it turned out to be the most basic and the most terrifying struggle between good and evil that has ever befallen this world, and all worlds."

They were silent.

"Perhaps we could stay," ventured Byers. "Perhaps there is some good we could do."

She smiled at him. "Just by being here, you do good. You support Mulder and all of us. I am very happy you're here."

And then, to their lasting surprise, she kissed each one of them in turn. "For good luck!" she said to each. Then her face changed and she ran to the bathroom, having to heave.

Byers was blushing to the roots of his hair; Langly sucked busily on his lollipop and Frohike's mouth hung open.

"See that?" Langly asked, nastily. "She kissed you and threw up, Frohike. Well, can't blame her!"

Frohike looked at him like he'd sprouted an extra head. "She's got morning sickness, you idiot!"

Langly put out his tongue at him.

"You guys," said Byers, "are impossible. Do you realize that that beautiful young lady actually kissed us?"

"I will never wash my lips again," said Frohike.

*************************************************

Rocking back slightly in his chair, the tall man took a sip of his Gamais Beaujolais, vintage 1961. He remembered that year well - it was the year his handsome son Fox was born to that slutty woman. Fox...Well, he had lost the chance to be able to bend Fox to his will, and that was a shame. The most he could do was to protect him, ensure he was safe, all the while they were thwarting him.

He would like to keep Alex Krycek away from him. Oh, sure, Fox was young, entertaining; but he couldn't give to Alex what his rightful master and lover could. Stability, loyalty, good example; material wealth such as most people never dream of.

The tall man touched himself, thinking of Alex. It was a natural progression. The staggering good looks of Alex, his beautiful face and body; the feel of Alex, his lithe muscles, his tight ass, big dick; the smell of his soft hair and his musk, the taste of sweat on slick skin, the sound of his cries as he came, no one, no one else was anyone compared to Alex.

His hand moved up and down on his cock, and he could have called Barry, but Barry was forgotten. Maybe he should fly Alex out here? He could; he could do anything; but he'd have to sneak him past the Consortium, and he didn't want to deal with that. Soon enough, he would be going home, and then, after a suitable punishment, the extent of which he had yet to devise, there would be the loving again. He would be with his Alex.

"Alex!" he groaned, and came all over his hand and his pants. Oh, well, dry-cleaning would take care of that. He had 20 identical suits hanging in the closet, and he could certainly get more if he needed them.

On a whim, he punched up Krycek's cell phone number, but, as expected, got his voice mail. "Alex," he said, "Call me at once."

*************************************************

At 2:00, after assurances from everyone in the Steamer's house that they would NOT attend the Left Hand Pathers' meeting, Scully left to attend the funeral of one of the murder victims. It was closed-casket. She wore one of her conservative dark pantsuits and stood a little apart from the family group. When they learned, as was inevitable, that she was the coroner in the case, she was besieged with questions. "How did she die?" was the primary one.

"She died as the result of a lightning strike," Scully lied steadily. "It was a terrible tragedy, a young life cut down. I am very sorry," she said sincerely.

The mother was a weeping woman with a Spanish accent. "I come to this country to be with my daughter, and she die a month later! I pray to Virgin Mary that this agony lift from me soon!"

"I will pray to her, too," said Scully gravely, touching the gold crucifix she wore as a fixture around her neck.

"You are Catholic too?"

"Yes," she nodded.

"Then maybe you tell me the truth about how she die, heh?"

"The truth? I don't know what you mean. She was electrocuted to death; that is the truth."

The woman looked at her. "I view her body right after she die and I see all these...these marks of the devil, all over her, and strange writing. Tell me, was the death the work of Devil?"

Scully looked down at her shoes. Nice Pierre Cardin platform loafers, she thought distractedly.

"It was, wasn't it?" the woman persisted.

Scully looked up at her. Couldn't have the whole county in on their secret. "No," she said firmly, "it wasn't," and she walked to her car.

*************************************************

By 1:00, Sharon, Mulder and Krycek were all busily trying on clothes and casting them aside. They'd made a "clothes run" on Sharon's on-campus apartment, Mulder going inside and Krycek staying with the girl in his car, and Mulder had turned up robes, hoods and other items that could be useful. As a high priestess of Wicca, Sharon usually wore a white robe and hood during her ceremonies, but she wasn't sure of their appropriateness to this meeting. Finally she decided on a black dress with the white robe and hood. I will look like Little White Riding Hood, she thought. And the marks on my chest will be completely covered. She'd cut bangs an hour before to hide the pentagram on her forehead.

Mulder dressed all in black and put on one of her black robes, and Krycek did the same. Sharon was of medium height but the robes fit them well.

"Well, now you look like proper Satanists!" she exclaimed.

Krycek put his wallet and cell phone in one of his robe pockets. Cell phone. Cell phone. Dammit, he'd forgotten to check his voice mail. He turned away and punched in the number. When he received the voice mail from the Old Man, he got worried.

"Just a sec, have to place a call," he said.

"Yes?" the voice answered.

"Sir, I just got your voicemail."

"Alex, what are you doing?"

"Uh...just hanging out." he said lamely.

"I'll bet. Look, I'm calling to make sure you're not going to the Left Hand Path meeting."

Krycek almost dropped the phone. "Uh, no," he said. "What is that, anyway? I've never heard of it?"

"Alex, do you know what the word 'pissed' means? That is what I am becoming. You underestimate my intelligence, and you overestimate my patience! Do not go to that meeting!"

"No, Sir, I won't," said Krycek, sounding as sincere as he possibly could.

"Old Man giving you grief?" asked Mulder. "He didn't want you to go to the meeting?"

Krycek shook his head. "It sounded like he knew all about it," he said. "Probably from Highland."

"Highland will probably be at that meeting," Sharon remarked. "You two had better watch out. So had I."

When it was time to go, they made last-minute adjustments to hair, etc. and piled into Krycek's Mercedes. The meeting was held in a beach house in Aptos. There was a collection of autos around the house and they threaded their way through them. The front door was right on the beach and little drifts of sand covered part of the walk.

They heard music within, conversation and laughter. They knocked on the door tentatively. A smiling middle-aged comfortable-looking woman in a black robe answered their knock and drew them in. "Alex, Mulder and Sharon," she said. "I'm Griselda! Welcome to our home! Drinks are over this way," she gestured to a punch bowl, "and hors d'oeuvres this way! You may sit anywhere you like." They missed some of this because there were about thirty people in the living room, and they were all talking at a fairly high volume. "Sharon...Now what does that make me think of?" she sank her chin into her hand. She looked up at Sharon, and pulled her cowl back and swept back her bangs. Her face was suffused with sudden knowledge. "Sharon Green! The blessed, blessed Sharon!" she took the girl's hands and pulled her toward the long table.

"Quiet!" she shouted. "Listen up, everyone! Here is the beautiful Sharon of prophecy, the holy wife of our Lord, the mother-to-be of the blessed child. All hail her!"

"Hail Sharon, bride of Lucifer!" "Hail Sharon, Mother of the Child!" The racket went on for some time. Sharon bore it with the quiet endurance she bore everything, smiling gently, looking down. When they were finished, many tidbits were pressed on her. "You can't drink," said Griselda, "because of your condition, but you may eat as much as you like. Please eat a lot! You are so thin! You want the baby to be born healthy!"

Sharon noted one young man at the corner of the table who was drinking rather a lot. With a shock, she noticed it was Jason. He avoided meeting her eyes. She noticed that he looked rather banged-up and his right arm was in a sling. For some reason, he was smooth-shaven and his longish hair had been hacked-off. She wondered what had gone on with him since their last meeting.

Griselda sat down at the head of the table and banged a small gavel. "OK, folks. I, Griselda, hereby call to order the September meeting of the Left hand Path. First item: we have three guests today, Alex, Mulder and Sharon. The lovely Sharon is indeed the One Wife of the Blessed One. We are very lucky, and very honored, to have her."

Suddenly Sharon was nudging Krycek. "He's here!" she whispered. He looked, and indeed there was Highland, standing by the table, his black hood not quite hiding his face. "And HE'S---" she started, but stopped when she realized how loudly she was whispering.

"Is there anyone who would like to add anything, before we proceed with the normal order of business?" Griselda asked.

"I would," said a figure who'd been seated in a corner, his dark robes and hood drawn around himself. He stepped up to the table and cast back his hood, and lo, it was He, and the gathering gasped.

"Oh, my Lord, I had no idea it was YOU!" said Griselda, yielding her seat. He preferred to stand, sweeping the meeting with his hot eyes, coming to rest on Sharon. 

"Some unbelievers I see here. I will deal with them later. My lovely bride is here, drawn to me by love, I would like to believe! Come, Sharon," he said, and held out his hand. She was drawn irresistibly to him; she couldn't not walk toward him, and yet she hated it, hated him fiercely. He grasped her hand and pulled her toward him. "Your place is at my side, always," he remarked. She glared at him. "wipe that look off your face, my love," he said, "it is most unbecoming!"

"See!" he addressed the gathering. "She bears my mark &#8211;" he pulled off her hood and swept her bangs aside "&#8212;and she carries my child! Let all call her name holiest of women! What have you to say, my wife?"

"I have this to say," she said clearly, "I have to barf!" and she tore away from his hand and went running down the hall, frantically opening doors till she found a bathroom, where she long and thoroughly puked her guts out.

Someone in the meeting room snickered. "You shall pay for this," said the demon softly. "After the meeting, Simon. She is a mortal woman in pregnancy, and would of course have morning sickness."

After she'd flushed the toilet and rinsed out her mouth a long time, Sharon noticed that the bathroom window, which was rather large, was standing wide open. Poking her head outside the window she looked onto the beach. Leaving the water running (as if that would fool him, she thought) she stood on the rim of the tub. Doing this, she was able to get up onto the windowsill. Then she was through the window and outside, the sea breezes fanning her long hair, shaking with relief. The back door closed softly and there were Mulder and Krycek; she ran to them and threw herself in their arms.

They got into the car and were relieved that it started; you just never knew. "How did you get away?" she asked.

"We didn't," said Krycek, offhandedly. "That is to say, he let us. What a terrible experience that must have been for you, Sharon."

"And it isn't over," said Mulder.

"No, it isn't," she agreed. "And not for those poor souls, either. I'll be willing to wager there'll be another person dead of some strange cause, found dumped somewhere on the beach tonight."

"Maybe we should hang around, then." Said Mulder. They both looked at him and shook their heads.

Driving through the crooked, winding streets of Aptos they became aware of something not right. "We've got a tail," said Krycek tightly. Mulder looked around. "Light-colored Escort," he said, "male driver."

"It's that Highland," Sharon murmured. "It's a wonder he wasn't struck down as an 'unbeliever'."

"Hell, why weren't we?" asked Mulder. "Because you are to take care of me," she said simply.

"I'm not doing a really great job, am I?" Krycek asked bitterly. "Look, Mulder, grab my Kalashnikov from the back seat and squeeze off a few rounds at him, would you? Sharon, lie down!" he barked.

She lay down obediently. Beside her, Mulder unrolled a side window and fired at the advancing driver. He was rewarded with a burst of fire that blew out the back window. "I don't like this," he remarked, and fired again. Krycek made a sudden right turn, then a left and then a right again, but Highland stuck to them like a burr. "Bastard," he said.

"Go on, fire again, Mulder," he said. "Fire at will. Fire a lot! Punch a hole in the bastard three feet wide!"

Mulder nodded and fired out the blown-out rear window. Again, there was an answering burst. "He's got an assault weapon too, Alex," Mulder called.

"No shit!"

"Keep driving, Alex!" Mulder cried. "I'll see what I can d--" then Highland shot out a rear tire. Then the other one.

"Motherfuckin' shit!" Krycek said. "We're done now." He steered the Mercedes to a stop, gradually. "Keep shooting!" He shouted. "Just about the time that I'll stop, we're all gonna hit the ground running," he said tensely. "When we do, Mulder, throw me the big gun. You continue firing using yours. We're gonna draw more fire, but can't be helped. Now, run! Run! &#8211; do you see that Union station?" he pointed. "Run for that. We can get help there!"

They took off down the street shooting wildly behind them, where Highland followed. They'd gotten to within spitting distance of the Union station when there was a burst of gunfire right at them. Mulder cried out and clutched his shoulder, and Krycek, his leg.

"I've been hit!" Mulder said. "I can keep going! Keep going!"

"I can't run!" Krycek cried. "I've been hit in the leg! Just keep going without me!"

Highland pulled up alongside the two injured and crippled agents, and the unharmed girl, and pointed his Uzi at them. "Get in the car!" he said. "Now!" in response Mulder ran, and Krycek hobbled, over to the sidewalk with the idea of obtaining help from some householder. Highland raised his gun and shot them again. Mulder took a bullet in his other leg, and collapsed; a bullet grazed Krycek's head. Both men collapsed, with Sharon kneeling by them. Highland got out of his car. "You three," said Highland, shaking his head and holding them at gunpoint. "What am I gonna do with you? Get in my car now, or you are dead meat as of this very second." 

"Not the girl," said a deep rumbling voice that seemed to come from under the Earth, and a young man appeared, strolling up the street. "You can have Krycek and Mulder," he said, "but the girl is mine. You are never to harm her!"

He took Sharon's nerveless hand in his and urged her back on the sidewalk. "Come with me, my love. Don't be afraid. I'm taking you home to your people. That man, who is otherwise a fine servant of mine, has a great weakness where you are concerned. I am afraid he would have seriously harmed you, maybe to the point where your usefulness to me would have been compromised. Here!" He threw his great cape over her. She had a brief sensation of smothering in his heavy robes; then her vision cleared and she could see a million pinpoints of light in the darkness. She couldn't recognize any of the constellations. Where was she? "One of my homes," he answered softly. "Slightly south of Aldebaran. Wherever there is intelligent life, Sharon, there I also dwell."

His robes swept over her face again and then she stood, weeping softly, at the front door of the house on Steamer's, and the man was gone. She seemed to have lost her key, but Scully opened the door at her knock. The older woman took in her strange getup and drew her inside. "What happened? Did you go to that meeting? I was praying you hadn't. And where are Mulder and Krycek?"

"They went with me," said Sharon. "It was a mistake! Now Highland has them! The spy!"

The older woman urged her to sit. "Have some coffee," she said distractedly. "I'll call David at once!" "White!" she yelled up the stairs. "We've got an emergency in progress! David!" and David White came pelting down the steps in his sock feet, taking them two at a time. He grabbed the girl. "Where are Krycek and Mulder?"

"I don't know, I don't know," she said miserably. "I get a picture of a motel in the West Lake district &#8211; maybe overlooking the yacht harbor. That's as much as I know."

"How'd you get here?" he asked her. "Is the car here?"

"Alex's car is out stranded on a side street in Aptos. I couldn't even tell you where," she said. "My ESP seems to have left me."

White nodded. "OK, I'm gonna have an APB sent out for a guy fitting Highland's description and Mulder's and Krycek's, and I'll get out there myself as soon as I get my shoes on." He hopped on one foot, slipping on first one shoe and then the other. Then he was out the door. "I'm taking the Cabriolet," he called, "it's faster!"

Inside the house, Scully served hot chocolate to the girl and tried to get her to drink it. Sharon tried but sobs overtook her. "L-Lexy and Mulder," she said, "Are out there w-with that evil m-man, that sp-spy, Sparrowh-hawk, Highland. He's g-gonna h-hurt them, Scully!"

Scully found that she could get the chocolate down the girl one spoonful at a time. "Hush, don't worry!" she soothed. "We've got the whole Santa Cruz Country police force looking for him! The San Jose office of the FBI is on its way over the hill. We'll find them, Sharon."

"Here," she said, rummaging in her bag, "is an Ativan. Here are two. Take 'em," she continued, bringing a glass of water to the girl. "Take 'em now, and you'll feel better soon."

The younger woman took the medication docilely. "It won't bring back Lexy and Mulder," she said, tears still hanging from her dark lashes.

"We'll find them, I promise," said Scully. "If you have any more of your precognitive flashes, though, why I could just radio 'em in to Agent White."

"He's a wonderful man, isn't he?" the girl asked.

"David? I like to think so. I think I've really found a keeper. But all of you are wonderful people and the dearest souls in the world. I pray every night for all of you!"

"Do you?" Sharon asked. "Well, maybe you could help me, Scully," she said, turning to the older woman with very wide brown eyes.

White drove quickly to the yacht harbor and took what he considered to be the path of least resistance: simply going from motel to motel and checking them all out, with the help of the Santa Cruz police, some of whom he instructed to fan out and check restaurants, bars and the like. At least he had a license plate number from Sharon &#8211; Scully had just radioed it in. He knew he should wait for the FBI to arrive from San Jose &#8211; it would only be an hour or so &#8211; but he was also aware that every minute he waited would increase the chances of Mulder and Krycek being hurt or killed.

Truth to tell, he didn't have a very good feeling about this one.

The process entailed going from door to motel door, checking out ALL the rooms, looking at the cars, etc. and so far he had turned up nothing. But he would keep trying, he told himself grimly. He did not look forward to seeing the faces of Scully and Sharon when he told them their friends had been found dead.

After holding the two men at gunpoint, Highland had cuffed and tied them up and stuffed them in the back seat of his Escort.

"It's OK, Alex," Mulder said ever-so-softly, but Highland heard and thwacked him. 

"You two faggots in the back seat," he said, sneering, "better shut up. You'll be talking soon enough!"

"Fuck you, motherfucker," Krycek said conversationally. "None of your fuckin' business!" Highland reached round and smacked him with his gun butt. "You ugly cocksucker," he said, "I oughta cut off your dick! Maybe I will," he added speculatively.

Krycek spat on the back of Highland's head. "You just try, motherfucker, you just try," he said.

The spy said nothing but pulled the car over to the side of the road. "You're lucky we're here," he said. "Stay here." He ordered. Krycek waited till he was gone a minute, then managed to unlock the side door with one foot. "I'll get out and get you out," he said. He managed to slide out in a big, trussed lump, and found he could not get to his feet. Highland found him this way and laughed.

"You guys never give up, do you?" he asked. "Come on, you first!" he hauled Krycek to his feet by his handcuffs and shoved him in the direction of the motel room door. "And don't bother vocalizing," he added. "If you do I'll kill you now."

In this fashion he got both Krycek and Mulder into the motel, where he tied them in chairs. He sat backward in a kitchen chair, testing a knife on the tips of his fingers. "Ow! That's a sharp one!" he exclaimed. "OK, so, Agent Mulder and professional faggot Krycek! What have you to say for yourselves?"

"I have this to say," said Mulder. "The entire Santa Cruz and Santa Clara County police forces will be out tonight, looking for us &#8211; not to mention the FBI. If anything happens to us, things won't go so well for you."

"That's if they find me," Highland said genially. "Look," he said, waving tickets in the air, "I'm getting out of here tonight, right after I take care of you two queers."

"The Old Man will find you, Highland," Krycek said huskily. "He'll find you wherever you go, have no doubt of that. And when he does&#8230;"

"Empty threats, empty threats!" jeered Highland, and backhanded him, once, twice. Krycek grunted but did not cry out.

"Someone will hear us," Krycek said.

"Is that what you think? This is the only occupied unit and the owners are away on emergency business for a week. The unit backs onto a hillside."

"How did you rent the unit then, if the owners are away?"

"I rented it first, then came back to it after they'd left. Why'm I telling you this? It's none of your fuckin' business!"

Highland went to the refrigerator and came out with three beers. One he poured over Mulder's head and one other he stuffed into Krycek's mouth, squeezing his nose shut with the other hand. "Suck it," he purred. Krycek coughed and spluttered and most of the beer came back up. "To victory," said Highland, and upended the third Heinekken, taking a great gulp.

"Now, Krycek," he said, "O armless one! I'm gonna fuck you with this," he said, holding up the big hunting knife he'd found strapped around Krycek's leg.

"I'll kill you, you cunt," said Krycek.

"What did you call me? That wasn't very nice!" He stabbed upward underneath Krycek's chair till the knife made contact with flesh, then he twisted. Krycek went white and gasped. 

Mulder cried out, "Don't! Don't hurt him! Hurt me instead!"

Krycek said, "No, don't! Please don't hurt him! Please let him go!"

"And why should I?" the spy asked mildly and stabbed Krycek again.

Krycek was momentarily afraid he would faint, but his consciousness of hatred kept him awake. That and the fact that he'd found the switchblade hidden under his shirt, and was busily, with one hand, trying to flip it open. "Ouch," he said softly, as it flicked open partly into his back.

"What'd you say, 'ouch'? I'm gonna make you say 'ouch'!" Highland said, sticking Krycek again with his own hunting knife. Krycek hid the sound of the switchblade ripping through his shirt with a gasp and a groan. Now he had to cut through his bonds. Mulder was cuffed and tied, but Krycek was merely tied. Mulder's back was to the room; but Krycek's was to the wall. With difficulty so great it made the sweat stand out on his face, Krycek began sawing on the thin nylon ropes.

"Think I'll have another go at it," remarked Highland. "Another beer -- that's good. Ah, we're sweating, are we, Mr. Krycek? Don't worry, there'll be plenty more to make you do that!" To demonstrate, he poised his knife above Krycek's crotch, then stabbed down. Pain such he had never known, and he'd known some of the worst, radiated out from that point and he gagged, bringing up more beer.

"You're really making messies all over yourself," commented Highland, looking at the spreading red stain on Krycek's jeans.

"Stop torturing him, you bastard!" yelled Mulder, and he was rewarded with a backhand to the face.

Krycek, in agony, had nevertheless managed to saw through the cords that had manacled his hand.

"I'd say that you were the bastard around here, Mr. Mulder," Highland said. Turning back to Krycek, he said, bending over him, "So how does it feel to be armless, Mr. Krycek?"

"About like...THIS!" Krycek shouted, on the "THIS!" jumping partway out of his chair and decking Highland, who fell on his back, out cold.

"Way to go Alex!" shouted Mulder enthusiastically. Krycek smiled. "I'll have you out of those cuffs soon, Mulder." Quickly he cut his leg bonds and then went over to Mulder and cut him out of his chair. Rifling Highland's pockets, he found the handcuff key and uncuffed Mulder, who stood up appreciatively. "You're hurt, Alex," he said, looking at his wounded lover. "We've got to get you to an emergency room right away! Let me call an ambulance," and he reached for the phone.

"No. No ambulance," said Krycek, staying his hand. "I'll be OK. I'll have Scully look at me, OK?"

"But --"

"No. I'll call you a cab, Mulder. You'll go on home, and I'll join you later."

"But--" Mulder's glance took in Krycek, obviously bleeding in the nether regions, and at their downed enemy. He was out cold but unlikely to stay that way indefinitely.

"You'll go," said Krycek. "Hello, Checkered Cab? Yeah, send a guy here right away. The Sunset Motel. Five minutes, really? I'll be waiting outside, OK? My name? Steven Wilks. That'd be fine."

"Aren't you going to call White or the police? Skinner? Someone?"

Krycek snorted. "No. What would I want with them? Until your cab comes, Mulder, you can help me tie this guy up. Cuffs, the works, just like he did to us."

They first frisked him thoroughly, then cuffed him, gagged him, propped him in one of the chairs they'd vacated and tied him. "Alex?"

"Yes, Mulder?"

"What do you have in mind? I mean, you're tying him up yet not calling the police or any help for yourself. What are you up to, Alex?"

"Nothing."

"Yeah, I'll bet."

Krycek peeked through the drapes. "Your ride is here, Mulder." He helped Mulder out to the car and put a fifty in the driver's hand. "To drive carefully," he said, "you're carrying precious cargo!" The man, a Sikh, smiled, white teeth in a black beard.

*************************************************

Mulder felt around in his jacket pockets and did not find his cell phone. He leaned forward. "Excuse me, driver?"

The Sikh nodded.

"I wonder if you could do me a favor and call a number for the Captain of the police department. Federal agent," he said, reaching for his wallet, but of course it wasn't there.

"You are Federal agent, hmm?" asked the driver doubtfully, scratching his beard with one hand. "I need see some ID, please," he said, firmly. 

"Well, damn!" swore Mulder.

"I do not call police if you abuse me," the driver said.

"Here's some ID," Mulder said, bringing up his Sig Sauer and pointing it at the man, who started shrieking. "No money! No cash! Please do not shoot!"

"No," said Mulder. "I don't want your money! I just want you to place a call to the police! Now how hard can that be!"

The man grabbed his radio. "...hello, police? Is driver Sadhu Singh of Checkered Cab. Is crazy man trying to kill me!"

Mulder grabbed the radio. "Police? I'm not trying to kill anyone! I'm trying to save a life! Aw, shit!" he said, as the line went dead.

"He does that," said Sadhu Sikh calmly. "Must get replacement!"

By this time they were almost home, so Mulder waited till they were there. "Scully!" He called, running into the house. "Scully! We don't have a minute to lose! Where's White?"

"Mulder! Mulder!" Scully screamed, running in from the living room. "Mulder, oh Mulder! You're alive! Oh you're alive!" She hugged and kissed him fervently. Then, "where is Alex?" she asked anxiously. "Oh, God, something's happened to Alex!" she flew to the phone, picked it up and dialed White's number.

"Alex is OK," Mulder said. "He'll live, Scully, but he's hurt."

Scully nodded . "David, sorry to find your phone off. Mulder's back and seems OK -- Are you all right, Mulder? -- but Alex is still -- Where is he?" she asked.

"At the Sunrise Motel, on West Lake," he said rapidly.

"He's at the Sunrise Motel, on West Lake Drive," she said into the phone.

"He's injured," said Mulder. 

"He's injured. Anything else, Mulder?"

"Yeah," Mulder said. "Highland is there. He was OK when I left him, but won't be soon."

She relayed this information then seemed to think about it.

"Uh-uh," Mulder said, putting his hand on Scully's. "No, Scully. We don't want to spread this around. He's one of ours now, remember?"

*************************************************

Highland came around in a few minutes. "What the hell happened?" he demanded upon finding himself bound to the chair in the same position he'd placed Krycek in.

"Just thought you might like a taste of your own medicine, Highland," Krycek remarked.

"And just are what are going to do to me, you armless pansy freak?" rasped out Highland.

"Just this," said Krycek, and flicked out his switchblade. "Like so," he said, and the man was minus one testicle. Highland looked down at his crotch, and up at Krycek, and began to scream.

"Just in case you were wondering what it was like to have only one ball, Highland," he said gravely. "Now, as for the arm thing."

The switchblade flashed and Highland, staring incredulously, was missing a chunk of his left arm, which dangled from Krycek's blade. It didn't hurt at first, mercifully, but he looked and he screamed. His arm was pouring blood from a hideous wound half an inch deep, one inch wide and six inches long.

Piece by bloody piece and bloodcurdling scream by scream, that arm was dissected until there wasn't much left. Highland was lingering on the edge of consciousness but some fresh new agony was always able to bring him back. He yelled; he begged for mercy; he apologized for every misdeed, whether done to Krycek or someone else; but nothing ended the pain.

"I'm gonna stop you from hurting, Highland," Krycek said at last, and the spy looked up at him hopefully, almost loving him. "Just ...like...this!" and he ran the switchblade into the spy's solar plexus and stopped his heart. Krycek wiped the blade on Highland's jeans and pocketed it. Then, grabbing his ridiculous robe, he slipped outside. It was a beautiful night. He would have run, but for the throbbing pain from his stab wounds. He fished in the pockets of the robe and came up with two cell phones, and another almost certainly Mulder's. He punched in the house number and waited. "Mulder," came the breathless response.

"Mulder -- Krycek."

"Oh my God, Alex! Is White there yet? Scully just called it in."

"What'd she say?"

"Nothing bad about you. Where are you?"

"At the Sunrise. I'm gonna walk back."

"With those wounds? The hell you are! White just called in, and he's on his way."

"I don't necessarily want to explain everything to him just now," Krycek said, retreating further into the shadows. "That's White now, in the Cabriolet?"

"I think he took that car, yes."

"OK. You go ahead and talk to him...he won't bite."

"Maybe not, but he'll sure bark a lot."

White alighted from his car, his alert eyes scanning the shadows around Room 10. "You can come out now, Alex," he said easily.

Krycek stepped from behind his hiding place.

"Come here," White said. "Let me look at you." Poor Alex was wounded in his arm and one leg, and there were dark stains in his crotch. "Is that blood? Were you wounded there?" he asked, pointing to Krycek's groin.

"Yes, it's blood. He stabbed me there."

"Jesus Christ!" said White fervently. "What about the Highland guy? Is he dead?"

Krycek nodded. "I killed him."

"Self-defense," said White.

"Take a look at him and then tell me it's self-defense," Krycek said.

White disappeared inside the room and came out in just a moment, looking as though he might gag. "God in Heaven," he said. "What did you do to him?"

"Nothing more than what he deserved," Krycek said steadily. "Now, are you gonna arrest me?"

White shook his head. "No, not at all. In fact, I'm gonna get this hushed up. Just don't do it again, OK? It's one of the most grisly fuckin' murders I've ever seen." 

Krycek nodded. "I gotcha," he said.

"I'm gonna have to call this in," White said, "but the assailant will never be found. I'll make sure of that!"

When he called in the murder to Skinner at 10 PM that evening, that party was livid but knew what was at stake, so he said he'd take care of it. He took it to the Director of the FBI, and this was how it came back to the Smoking Man.

*************************************************

Krycek and White returned to Steamer's to find Scully pulling the last of the sutures through Mulder's shoulder wound. When she saw Krycek she wept. "Thank God you're alive," she said. "You're next!" she said, indicating the dining room table. She'd turned it into a makeshift treatment bed with sheets, pillows and the like.

Sharon came over with a glass of wine. "Drink this, Lexy," she advised. He downed it obediently; then she gave him another. By that time Scully was ready for him, and he was feeling a little high. "Take off your clothes, Alex. All of them," she told him. All eyes were on him, but he shrugged and shucked off jeans, shorts, T-shirt and shirt, took the towel she'd proffered and climbed up on the table.

"Let's do your back first," said Scully. "Let's see, you've got two bullet wounds in your legs. One bullet went through cleanly, the other lodged in your thigh. I'm gonna have to take it out. In addition you have lacerations on testicles and perineum. You're lucky the guy didn't have better aim. I will suture those wounds. The whole process is gonna take a couple hours. These aren't exactly ideal conditions, but evidently you guys want me to do it so it doesn't inadvertently get reported on and end up in the paper, etc. Right?"

"Yes," said Krycek. "I trust you. Do whatever you need to."

"Thank you for your trust," said Scully. "Sharon, will you hand me that Xylocaine injectable? Thank you!"

Scully worked on Krycek for an hour and a half, removing the bullet, puffing antiseptic powder everywhere, suturing and cleaning.

When she was through, he sat up. "Whew!" he said, "thanks, Scully!" and hopped down from the table. "Do you have one of those super-duper pain pills?" he asked her hopefully.

"The Percodan? Sure I do!" she pressed into his hand a bottleful. "Don't take 'em on an empty stomach!"

"Thanks so much," he said again.

"So what'd you do that guy, the spy?" she asked casually.

"Brace yourself!" he said.

"Yeah?" she smiled at him, and it was a fierce smile.

"I cut him to ribbons," he said, looking her in the eye.

It wasn't until later that he received his two messages from the Old Man: one asking him to fly to Europe and the other, rather menacing, simply: "Call me." Well, he'd deal with that later.

"Mulder," he said, "It's one in the morning. Let's go to bed!"

"OK," said Mulder. "I've got no problem with that!"

In bed, they snuggled drowsily, naked, skin touching skin, pain mostly taken care of with Dr. Scully's prescriptions.

"Mulder."

"Alex."

"I've got a hard-on."

"Yes, I can feel that you do. Isn't that killing you?"

"Hurts a little," Krycek admitted.

"Want me to take care of that for you?"

"You've got one, too. Let's take care of each other."

They nestled face to face. Krycek kissed Mulder, gently at first and then harder, his tongue exploring the depths of Mulder's mouth and touching the back of his throat, and Mulder was kissing him back, harder, harder. Krycek nibbled on Mulder's full lips, bit the lower lip, kissed and licked it. Mulder moaned.

He kissed Mulder's neck, sucking hard and giving him a hickey, licked downward to his chest, tonguing the nipples until they stood up, kissed downward to his navel and licked that. He traveled down Mulder's abdomen through the thatch of hair to Mulder's hard cock, which he swallowed in one gulp, sucking hard. Mulder gasped. Krycek licked up and down the shaft and around the head, tasting the bitter pre-come. Mulder groaned. "Suck me hard, Alex," he said, and Krycek did. He also ran a finger up Mulder and pumped that in time to his sucking.

When Mulder came, he screamed, "Alex!" and shot a full load of hot sticky fluid down Krycek's throat.

"Your turn," said Mulder. "With your hurts and bandages, Alex, how do you want it?"

"Suck me," said Krycek promptly. "Just be careful, Mulder!"

"You know I will be," said Mulder. He kissed Krycek on the forehead, on his downcast eyes. "Such lashes, Alex," he murmured; "such eyes!" He kissed all over the beautiful bruised face, kissed the cupid's-bow lips, took Krycek in a heavy mouth-to-mouth, tongue thrusting and licking. Krycek kissed back, moaning.

Mulder kissed Krycek's graceful neck, his broad chest, tongued his nipples, kissed down Krycek's abdomen. He felt around for the bandages and avoided those as his hot moist mouth came down on Krycek's waiting, straining cock. "God, Mulder!" Krycek breathed. "That's so fuckin' wonderful!"

Krycek threaded his slim fingers through Mulder's thick hair and held on as Mulder's head went up and down and his mouth, tongue and lips were employed on Krycek's cock. When Krycek came he yelled Mulder's name over and over.

They sank limply onto the bed, nuzzling and kissing like two teenagers. There was a knock at the door. "Hey guys! You all right in there?" It was Scully, of course. Krycek laughed. 

"We're both perfectly fine, Dr. Scully!"

"OK," she said doubtfully. "It sounded like you were in pain, Alex."

"He's OK," called Mulder.

"Never better!" murmured Krycek.

After the guys went to bed, Sharon quizzed Scully about her Catholicism. They were sitting at the kitchen table, Scully cracking and eating black walnuts and Sharon eating saltines and drinking 7-up. "You pray to the Virgin Mary?" Sharon asked.

Scully nodded. "And to God, Jesus and the Saints."

"You pray, then, essentially, to a pantheon of gods."

"Well, when you put it that way, yes. But it's all to the one God."

"I pray to a variety of gods," said Sharon slowly, "but they are all expressions of the one Force. Some of these gods are the same as yours. My Mari, for example, the mother goddess, is the same as your Mary. I even have a picture of the Virgin on my altar at home. Now, Scully?"

"Yes?"

"For this coming showdown, I'm gonna have to be able to raise power."

"Raise power?" Scully's eyebrow went up. "How do you do that?"

"It's not easy. I can use candle magic, some spells I have, some invocations. I would like to be able to invoke Mari, as she is very powerful. Gaia, the Earth Goddess, is also powerful. For protection there is Morgana, who's like the Queen Bitch of the universe."

Scully shrugged. "Go for it!"

"There are problems with raising power. One is that He will know, and He will stop me. If his attention is diverted elsewhere, then I have a chance."

"Diverted? You can divert the attention of someone like that?"

"Well, if he's really involved in a war, say, genocide, things like that."

"How do you know this?"

"I don't, it's just a guess," Sharon said, munching a saltine cracker. "It's a feeling. The closer I get to term, the larger I loom to him as a priority. It is my understanding that the baby will be born in a couple of weeks. Everything comes down to the wire at the same time."

"Can I help you raise power? Strictly speaking, it isn't part of my religion, but I'd like to help."

Sharon nodded. "On that fateful day, I'll have a Catholic priest and other holy men to help me. You can help me a lot by helping to round these people up."

"OK, that sounds good," said Scully doubtfully. "Who besides the priest?"

"Lexy's friend Bill Runningwater, for one," Sharon said, sipping her 7-up. "He's a minister and is also a Navajo holy man. A Buddhist priest, a Taoist priest, a Hindu and a Sikh man of God. Even a Muslim. Whatever it takes!"

"OK," said Scully, rocking back in her chair. "We're really gonna do this thing, aren't we?" she asked in wonder. "It's hard to believe."

"The whole shmear is hard to believe," said Sharon gravely. "But believe it!"

Later on, in her room, Sharon lit a black candle taken from home when they got the robes. She anointed the candle with oil of rue and placed some dried sprigs of the herb around the candle. She placed the candle in a bowl filled with sand. "Hail Morgana!" she cried. "Great Avenger of Wrongs! I call upon you to protect me this day!"

There was deep laughter, as if coming from below the surface of the Earth, and the flame flickered -- but did not blow out. "Hail Azaria, Queen of the Witches! I call up on thee to protect thy daughter!" The flame became taller, and the candle burned more steadily. She placed it all, candle, bowl and sand, into the bathtub with a note to whomever found it, not to blow it out.

*************************************************

The tall man got the call at 9:00 AM. He stood and paced, drawing on a Morley and wreathed in smoke. Damn that boy! He did it again! And the Consortium had lost yet another operative. A "very brutal murder," and a brief description of same, was what he'd been told. Well, he'd pull his conejos out of the fire again. Sighing, he blew out smoke. What he would like to do to Alex would leave him permanently scarred, and he was reluctant to mark him up.

He squashed out his cigarette and lit another. Then he reached for the phone.

*************************************************

In the middle of the night Krycek got up to pee. He decided he'd call the Old Man. He punched in the number, a UK one, and received an immediate answer.

"Yes?"

"Um, Sir, this is Alex Krycek."

"Ah, our wandering boy! Quite some adventures you've had, I understand?"

"Yes," he said reluctantly.

"Do you realize that I'm the person responsible for hushing this up? Otherwise the murder would have been in every paper in California, and then some, and you'd be languishing in jail, my pretty boy."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir," said Krycek humbly.

"So, Alex, you not only went against my orders, you deliberately flouted them, killing one of our best operatives, and you're STILL hanging around Fox Mulder!"

"Um," said Krycek.

"Look, Alex, I'm thinking ten strokes for each transgression...that's a lot! You're going to be hurting a lot, my boy!"

"I'm hurting a lot NOW, due to that rotten spy who kidnapped us and tortured me with a hunting knife. It wasn't my fault he did that!"

"Well, I know you're not completely to blame for this business, but you shouldn't have been there in the first place! I want you to pack up your duds and head home, now!"

"I can't. Highland shot out the tires on the Mercedes."

"Well, get it fixed! Get Bill Runningwater to pick you up."

"I can't go back just yet."

"You are beginning to irk me, Alex. Get the hell out of that house and back to Soquel. I don't care if you have to fly, walk or highjack a bus. Just do it!" he roared.

"I will, Sir." he said.

Sadly, he wrote out a long note to Mulder, stating that he had to leave, but that he would be back soon. He taped it to the door, threw his things in a bag, and tiptoed out. Behind him, a door creaked open, and Ringo Langly stood looking at him speculatively. 

Downstairs, he quietly called Bill Runningwater and asked for a ride. Then he walked out into the warm night.

*************************************************

The Old Man lit another Morley cigarette and considered. He was almost sure that Alex would comply with his orders this time. He'd go back to the Soquel house and stay there, awaiting further orders. He'd thought again of getting him to fly to London, but perhaps he would wait till his business here was concluded before seeing him. Meeting him would be that much sweeter.

"BARRY!" he thundered. The young lad came running into his room. "Yes, sir?"

"You know what to do," the Old Man said. "And this time, I want some tongue in it!" He leaned back in his chair as Barry undid his zipper, and he closed his eyes and thought, this is Alex doing this, Alex's hand touching me, Alex's mouth sucking me.

*************************************************

Bill Runningwater picked Alex up, in the Porsche, at a quarter to two. He was yawning when Krycek got into the car and yawning as he drove up the freeway ramp. "I can drive, I'm wide awake," said Krycek with some urgency.

Runningwater answered this with a yawn. "Not to worry, it isn't very far," he said.

Krycek sank back into his seat. "He got you this time, didn't he, Alexei?" the Navajo asked. "You must've done something pretty bad."

Krycek shrugged. "I killed one of his spooks, that's all. The guy was gonna kill Mulder and torture me to death."

"Then you did the right thing, I suppose. Did he hurt you?"

"Stabbed me in the scrotum and a couple of other places. Shot Mulder and me twice, each. That's all."

"That's ALL! I'm surprised you're still here! Oh, Alexei," said Runningwater, and his voice was filled with grief. "How you suffer!"

Krycek said huskily, "It's part of being Alex Krycek, I guess. How are the horses, Bill?"

Runningwater smiled. "They're fine. Wish you'd ride 'em more, Alexei."

"Why can't you ride 'em?"

"Sheesh, you know I can't ride Guardian. He'd have me off in a hot second!"

Krycek laughed. "You're right! We'll go riding together, you and I, as soon as things heal up and I get these stitches out. I'll have to go back to Scully in about a week to have that done."

"You know," said Runningwater, "you are the damndest person I've ever known. There's no one like you, and the Old Man knows that. Keep being the way you are, and he'll keep on loving you."

Krycek winced. "I didn't think love had anything to do with it!"

Bill shook his head. "Love has everything to do with it!"

"Then why does he beat the crap out of me at every opportunity?"

"It's a crime, they way he hits you, but consider: a couple of months ago, you took that Talisman that he considered rightly his. Just lately, you've been killing off all his spies! Those people are very expensive to train and maintain."

Krycek spread his hands. "The Talisman belonged to the spirit of that old Indian, and it was the right and correct thing to do, to give it to Mulder! I've been killing the Old Man's spooks because they've been trying to kill me! I'm a survivor, Bill, you know that."

Runningwater nodded. "I know you are, and I sympathize with you, Alex. I just wish you didn't have to suffer so much, and you wouldn't if you just behaved some. End of lecture."

"Has he recruited you, then, to talk like this to me?" asked Krycek, feeling heat washing over him. "Have you gone over to his camp?"

"No, Alexei, I haven't. He treats you really badly, but only when you do what he considers bad things. And Alex--"

"Yeah?"

"He considers the trysts with Fox Mulder to be the very worst you could do to him. Fox is his son, for starters; also, he is profoundly jealous and envious of you two. He knows you love Mulder, and he would do almost anything to get you to love him that way."

"He could start by not beating me!" Krycek spat out. "I'm the woman in this abusive relationship," he said darkly. "Maybe I should go to a shelter. Aw, he'd find me." He leaned his chin in his hands, staring out at the night. Surprisingly, he thought, a tear worked its way past his long lashes and ran down his cheek. Another one followed, and he was seized by a deep sob. Runningwater put a hand on his shoulder gently. Krycek cried, loudly and with abandon, all the way up the final eight miles of the trip.

When they got home he flopped immediately into bed. The phone rang.

"Krycek," he said breathily.

"Alex, so nice to find you home!"

"Yes, Sir."

"Now, Alex, I want you to do absolutely nothing while you wait for me. You can ride the horses anywhere you want and make trips to the grocery store and so on, but no visiting Fox Mulder. Is this perfectly clear?"

"Yes, Sir."

"If you visit Mulder again and I hear about it, I am going to have you cuffed to the bed. I mean it, Alex."

"Yes, Sir."

"I don't even want you to have phone contact with Mulder. Remember, I can check your phone records, even your cell phone."

"Yes, Sir."

"OK. We're square on what you have to do. In a little less than 3 weeks' time, I'm returning home. I have many gifts for you, Alex. You will be happy to see me, I think."

"Yes, Sir," said Krycek automatically. "I'll look forward to it, Sir."

After he hung up, Krycek went out the back door and down the steps to call Guardian. The stallion was at the far end of the pasture but came thundering up at Krycek's whistle. He slipped through the fence and mounted the big bay Thoroughbred in one leap, grabbing the halter ropes and urging him down the pasture and over the fence. Krycek, the consummate rider, could ride without saddle and bridle, using leg pressure and shifts in body weight to effect his wishes.

They went pounding down the mountain, taking fences and obstacles as they presented themselves, all the way to Starlite Market on Soquel Drive, where there was a pay phone. Slipping 35 cents into the slot with trembling fingers, he dialed Mulder's cell phone.

"Mulder," a sleepy voice said.

"Mulder, this is Alex," Krycek said. He couldn't keep the trembling out of his voice. "I'm at the Soquel house and the Old Man keeps calling me. He doesn't want me seeing you."

Mulder snorted. "We'll see about that. I'll see whomever I damned well wanna see!"

"I told Bill Runningwater that I couldn't take the abuse..."

"If he abuses you again, I'm gonna kill him. I don't care about the consequences. I want him off this planet!"

"Mulder, lisitsa, love of my life, come meet me here. I have to see you, touch you!"

"OK, babe. Where are you?"

"I'm at the Starlite Market, on Soquel Road near Sequoia Grade. I'll wait here for you."

"OK. You drove the Porsche?"

"No, I rode," Krycek said.

"You did? One of the horses? You're amazing!"

Mulder showed up in twenty minutes and he was flooring it. He veered into the Starlite Market's parking lot. Krycek was there, waiting for him

The big stallion whickered as Mulder approached. He went directly to Krycek. "My love," he said, and took him in his arms.

"My lisa," whispered Krycek. He started singing "Oh my love," by John Lennon, softly. He had a surprisingly good voice.

Mulder felt a thrill go up his spine. Here indeed was the love of a lifetime. He kissed Krycek, softly at first, then many times, on the tender cupid's bow lips, then deeply, his tongue meeting Krycek's, exploring Krycek's perfect mouth. They stood kissing for maybe fifteen minutes, then Krycek said, "come riding with me!"

"Now?" Mulder asked, regarding the stallion anxiously. Guardian was wearing neither saddle nor bridle.

"Come on!" said Krycek, leading the stallion to a rail and mounting with easy grace. "Come up, Mulder!"

Mulder shook his head but climbed on the rail and then on the Thoroughbred, behind Krycek. "Now, we fly," said Krycek. He rode the horse at a canter across the street then up a wild hillside studded with shrubs and live oaks. The stallion picked his way easily through the obstacles. They came to a clearing, and Krycek opened him up.

"Oh my Go--" said Mulder. The words were torn from his throat; he didn't know that a horse could run that fast. They ran for a half mile or so, the countryside whipping past, then Krycek turned him in the direction of home, and he slowed, having to climb.

The horse was barely breathing hard when they came to the West Pasture. Krycek slid down, landing on his feet; Mulder landed on his butt. Krycek laughed so hard he began coughing.

"Come to the house," he invited. "Speak quietly; Bill's asleep."

"Well, what if we make noise?" Mulder objected.

"We'll be quiet. Bite on a Kleenex or something."

Once in the livingroom, Krycek immediately began unbuttoning Mulder's shirt and nibbling on his chest and his nipples. Mulder did the same for him. Mulder pulled Krycek's pants and shorts down, and immediately took Krycek's hardening cock in his mouth. "Let me know if anything I do hurts you," he instructed.

"Oh, lisitsa, it is a good hurt," said Krycek.

Mulder tongued Krycek's cock, swirling his tongue around the cock head and licking up and down the shaft. Krycek moaned but stood.

"Let's sit down, it will be easier for you," Mulder said. So Krycek sat and Mulder knelt in front of him, sucking his cock from root to tip, letting his throat massage the head while mouth and tongue and lips worked the shaft. He was very gentle, as he did not want to disturb Krycek's hurts. Krycek ran his fingers through Mulder's thick hair, gently pressing Mulder's head up and down. Mulder moaned, enjoying having his mouth fucked.

When Krycek came it was cataclysmic and he yelled Mulder's first name again and again as he spurted hot liquid down Mulder's throat. When it was over, Mulder embraced Krycek. "Do you want me to suck you?" asked Krycek

"Is the Pope Catholic?" was his response.

"C'mon, let's go to the bedroom," he said. "It's soundproofed." Mulder could think of several reasons why that might be so, and he didn't like any of them, but he followed Krycek to the room, shucked off his jeans and shorts and lay on the bed, spread-eagled, his huge cock engorged to the fullest. "That's a gorgeous sight!" exclaimed Krycek. "Mulder, you are a beautiful man!"

"Thank you! Now would you get down to business?"

Krycek laughed and bent to Mulder's cock, devouring it hungrily, sucking and licking at the same time, massaging the tip with his throat as Mulder had done to him. "Harder," panted Mulder. "Harder, faster, Alex!"

Krycek obeyed and Mulder came so hard and so fast he hardly had time to take it in: Mulder's back arching and a long scream coming from his throat as he shot warm sticky come into Krycek's mouth.

Krycek collapsed on the bed and Mulder stroked his back. "I see only one, maybe two small scars on your back, Alex. You'd think you'd be marked worse than that, with what he does to you."

"I know. I've had plastic surgery, there, Mulder. Laser treatment on the scars. You'd think if he went to the trouble of having the scars erased, he wouldn't be so eager to give me them in the first place."

Mulder was silent for a while. Then, "what happens now?" he asked softly.

"Well, I'll probably have to drive you back at some point, probably sooner rather than later."

"OK," Mulder said, sitting up, "guess I'll get dressed."

They dressed quietly and Krycek led them to the garage. "We'll take the Porsche." It was 4 AM. "This has been a long fuckin' night, hasn't it? Probably the longest night of my life. It seems I've lived two lifetimes, tonight."

"Yes," said Mulder. "It does seem that way."

*************************************************

Sharon's attempt at raising power was successful: she heard no more demonic laughter, and the candle burned until it drowned in its own wax about 4 AM -- a good sign. The goddesses had heard her pleas and had responded. She said a quick prayer for Krycek and Mulder, caught in a sad and potentially tragic love triangle. Actually, it was more like an open box, that figure, because no one loved the Old Man much. She sure didn't think much of him. Nevertheless, she included him in her prayers.

Scully came in at 6 in the morning to tell her she'd enlisted the services of a Catholic priest, who would work with them and attend the Wiccan ceremony.

"There's something you should know about that ceremony," said Sharon hesitantly.

"What, you sacrifice small animals or children?" Scully asked, sitting on the bed.

"Geez, Scully." The girl shook her head. "It's Satanists who do that, and not even they do it very often. What I'm thinking about is the Great Rite."

"What's that?"

"The High Priestess of the coven -- that's me -- has sex with the High Priest, if there is one. We don't have one. In such a case, the sex can be had between the Priestess and one of the other members, or by two people the Priestess designates."

"Good Heavens, they have sex in front of God and everyone?"

Sharon smiled. "They can, or they can go to a room and do it privately. Wherever the place, it is very strong magic, a very strong force generated."

"Wow! Something tells me you've got the lucky couple picked out already."

"I have."

"Who are they?" Scully asked, consumed by curiosity.

Sharon laughed. "No can tell."

"So tell me, if you have this Great Rite and it engenders a large rip in the force field, or whatever, why do you have to have the priest and so on?"

"Because the Great Rite will not be enough," said Sharon. "We need the others, representatives of great religions, to help me raise the power. These candle rituals I have are just the beginning. At the end of these 11 days, the power we can raise will be significant, enough I think to send Him back to where he belongs and to close the door that was opened by the Satanists."

"Are we going to live through this?" Scully asked. "Are YOU going to live through this?" she said, taking the girl's hand and stroking it absently.

Sharon fell silent. "I think all of you will be OK," she said.

"And you?"

The girl shook her head. "I cannot say, but I do know that I must get rid of this demon-child I carry, and I know no other way but to die. The Lord and Lady will have the final say though; what I want is out of my hands."

"What do you want? Surely to live!"

Sharon nodded. "Sure! Of course! Who would not choose life over death! But the imp must die," she said, touching her belly. Suddenly her eyes got wide and she ran to the bathroom, retching and gagging into the toilet.

"I'm sorry," she said, coming back out.

"Never be sorry about something like morning sickness!" Scully exclaimed. "It's a natural function!" Or a supernatural one, she thought.

"We might as well stay up now and see what the day offers," she said. "I'll get you an ice cube to suck on." She fetched the ice cube then knocked on Mulder's door.

"Yeah?" was the muffled response. Scully barged in and pulled down his blankets. "Let me see how your wounds are doing." She examined them closely. "They're all right," she said at last. "No infection. Keep taking your antibiotics. Where's Krycek?" she asked, thinking he might be downstairs.

"Oh, he went back home." he said offhandedly, but Scully saw that full lower lip start to quiver, before he bit it.

"I'm sorry. Did you two have a fight and break up?" she asked sympathetically, moving in to hug him.

"No. We're still in love, Scully. His master called him home, and he went, arf arf arf," he said bitterly.

"Who's his master? The Smoking Man?"

"Yes."

"Oh, Mulder, you know he can't keep away for long. He'll be back before you know it! What the Smoking Man doesn't know won't hurt him."

"He has his ways of finding out, Scully. He's fiendishly clever."

"Well, at least Krycek killed off his spies."

"He's got more."

Scully sighed. "I'm trying to reframe this, Mulder. You and Krycek belong together, therefore you shall be together! And, oh! I found something in the lining of my suitcase," she said. "Look!"

Mulder gasped. There was the wide band of gold Krycek had given him. He turned it over and over. Outside it was chased; inside it was engraved in elegant script: Alex and Fox, July 17, 2000. "Oh, my God, I'm so happy to have this back!" he said finally. "Maybe we can have another ceremony," he said hopefully.

She nodded. "I'd love to attend!" She kissed Mulder, very lightly, on the lips. "You're very dear to me, Mulder. Anything I can do for you, ever, you let me know. Your happiness is very important."

"Thank you," said Mulder huskily. He was on the verge of tears. Any moment now and his eyes would start leaking. He tried manfully to blink the tears away, but they came, washing his face and dripping on his pajama top. 

Scully held him in a tight embrace. "Dear, dear Mulder," she said. "It'll work out. You'll see! There's a just God in heaven, and good will prevail for such fine people as you and Alex."

"You can call Alex a fine person, knowing he's a murderer, and was responsible for your sister's death?" Mulder asked incredulously.

"I've forgiven him," she said. "And what he did to that spy Highland? He deserved it. He was a walking mass of hate and evil, and he tried to torture Alex to death. Alex was like an avenging angel...people think angels are little round-faced people with white wings and pink dresses, but such is not the case."

"We have one here in the house with us," he said solemnly.

"An angel? Sharon? Yes, she is."

"Of course Sharon, but also you, Scully. We were badly hurt; you patched us up; it took you hours, and you never complained."

"Thank you, but I was just doing my job," she laughed.

White poked his head in just then. "How're you doing, Mr. Sieve?" he asked.

"Not dripping out of the holes, yet," said Mulder cautiously.

"How's Krycek? Where is he, by the way?"

Mulder rolled his eyes. "Went back home. His master's voice."

"Gee, that's too bad!" White shook his head. "He's a good guy to have around."

"Is he gonna come back in a week to have his stitches out?" Scully asked, concerned.

"I'll call him and tell him, but I think he already knows. He could have the stitches out at any doctor's office or emergency room, but he'd have to make up some good lies about how he got that way in the first place."

*************************************************

Krycek was awakened at 7 AM by Bill Runningwater, shaking him. "You have a call," he said, and handed him the phone.

"Krycek," he croaked.

"Lexy? This is Sharon Green."

"Yes, Sharon?" he said, stretching like a cat.

"We're doing a ceremony on D-Day, and we're having a Great Rite. I choose you and Mulder as the participants, if that's OK with you both."

"It's OK with me," he said.

"One of you must represent the High Priestess, and the other the High Priest."

"Oh, I get it, one of us has to be the girl!"

"Woman, Lexy."

"OK, it's fine with me if I'm the gir-woman," he said.

"OK, great. Now here's Mulder."

"Alex?"

"Mulder!"

"What do you think of this Great Rite thing?"

"Oh, it's standard, to raise power. And don't worry, I agreed to be the Priestess."

"Cool! When are you going to visit, Alex? You have to be prepped for this thing and all."

"Shit, that's right. I'll be by, soon, tomorrow if not today later."

The call waiting beeped.

"Fuck, the call waiting just beeped me. Can you hold a moment?"

"Alex," came the familiar voice. Oh, shit.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Just good to see you're at home, where you should be. Are your wounds being cared for?"

"Uh, yeah."

"What is the doctor's name?"

Scully. Dr. Dana Scully. "Um, I don't know," he said lamely.

"Is it Scully who's caring for you?"

"Yeah."

"I know your stitches have to come out in a few days. You have my permission to have Scully come up to the estate -- she'll be well-paid -- but she can't bring Mulder. OK?"

"Yes, Sir," he said.

"How is everything else?"

Hasn't changed that much in a few hours, you dipshit. "Fine!"

"OK. That's all."

He frantically clicked the other call back on. "Hello?"

"I'm still here," said Mulder. "Was that the Old Man?"

"Yeah. Always checking up on me!"

*************************************************

The older men sat taking their evening meal in an exclusive back room of the hotel's best restaurant. "So, we've lost our best operative," The First Elder remarked, "to the Ratboy. A very brutal murder, so we've been told."

"Should we set another, um, associate, on the case?" an elderly gentleman asked.

The First Elder shook his head, spearing a piece of rather good veal parmigiana on his fork. "I am afraid that he would suffer the same fate as the others," he said in a grating high-pitched monotone.

"We've got to terminate Alex Krycek," said the elderly gentleman.

"My God, man, you can't kill him!" spoke up the Well-Manicured Man. "He was once our best spy, and he is the darling of Spender." Who isn't here, he thought, to hear this.

He appeared in the doorway then, mostly filling it, due to his extreme height and very broad shoulders. "What looks good, tonight, gentlemen?" he asked genially. To the waitress he said, "the quiche please, and a bottle of your best burgundy."

"Now, what were we talking about? Terminating Alex Krycek? I don't think so," he said easily. "Thank you, I'll pour it myself," to the wine steward.

"Alex is a pet of yours, but he is impeding the progress of our mission," said The First Elder, wrapping spaghetti around his fork.

The Smoking Man stretched his long legs under the table. "Ah, the quiche," he said, and set to work on it. "Gentlemen, I will not give you Alex Krycek, so you can just forget about it."

The elderly man protested. "He killed Highland and we never got the report on the Left Hand Path meeting. Without that, we are very crippled. We might never find out what we need to know."

"If it is a choice between keeping Krycek and keeping the mission, we keep the boy," he said swiftly. "I am of the opinion, at any rate, that we cannot succeed in the mission. This is a great power that we cannot hope to harness."

"We already have," said the WMM softly. "It's what we're all about."

There was a stunned silence. "Bourbon and water," one of the men said, finally, to the waitress. The Smoking Man, having half- finished his quiche, shook out a Morley from his pack and lit it. 

"These are the fancies of fantasy - spinners," he said.

"Isn't that what you'd call this whole project?" asked the WMM.

"No. These powers are very real."

"These supernatural powers?" asked The First Elder, mopping up the last of his red sauce with a hunk of garlic bread.

"They are real," said the Smoking Man, inhaling and exhaling smoke. "Although I think the project is doomed, I would like to say that I do have an operative who might be able to find out what we need to know. Code name Nightshade."

"Well, send him out, then," said The First Elder.

"It's a female. I think she's pretty good."

The WMM handed the Smoking Man the courtesy phone without a word.

*************************************************

Barbara Donaldson, code name Nightshade, received the call at 8 in the morning. She was just about to go out for her morning jog. "Yes, I'll do it," she said, after hearing about the assignment. She was excited, both by the project and by the fact that it was a very lucrative assignment. She was given the warnings: do no harm to Alex Krycek and Fox Mulder. She was told that her predecessor had harmed the hell out of these two men, and that he had been killed in a very grisly fashion.

Barbara, very striking, had a mass of bronzy brunette hair and grey eyes. Although she was small, she made up for it in ferocity: no one had ever bested her in a fair fight, even when she was pitted against 6-foot weight-lifters. She held black belts in judo, karate and jujitsu and was a formidable opponent. She was faxed over and emailed pictures of the principals, Krycek, Mulder, Scully, White and this Sharon Green person, who was supposed to be the most beautiful woman in the world. Present company excepted, she thought, admiring her reflection in the mirror. Well -- enough vanity for one day. She'd heard Green had psychic abilities. Well, she'd practiced mind control enough to be immune to a mind-reader. Just let her try, she thought.

She knew just the "in." Fielding, Martinez, Highland -- they were dolts. They deserved what had happened to them.

She punched in the number to the Steamer's house. "May I please speak to Sharon Green? Thank you. Sharon? Yes, my name is Holly Lake. I'm a Wiccan and I'm interested in your group? I thought I'd like to sit in on a meeting, if that's permitted. Oh, you have one coming up? What do you mean, it's too intense? Oh, evil forces? They don't bother me. You'd like to meet with me first? How about Starbucks, on the Garden Mall? Today at two? OK, fine!"

"YES!" she cried, hanging up the phone and doing a little dance.

*************************************************

"I just got a really strange call," said Sharon thoughtfully to Scully. "It's this woman, claiming to be a Wiccan. I can't read her; she's blocked somehow. Not a good omen, but I agreed to meet her at Starbucks."

"Is that safe?" worried Scully.

"Well, it is a woman."

"Doesn't make any difference. Here ---" she said, rummaging in a drawer. "Here's my extra service revolver. This is how you load it, this is how you aim it, and this is how you shoot it."

Sharon rolled her eyes. "Really, Scully!"

"No, I'm serious! Take it!" she insisted.

Sharon took it with great reluctance, her fingers shrinking away.

"Let me put this holster on you. You have loose clothes, that's good. There!" she stepped back to admire her handiwork. "That's great!" She gave Sharon the thumbs up.

"Oh, brother," said Sharon.

*************************************************

Alex Krycek had Meusli for breakfast and thought about Mulder. Bill Runningwater was there. "You had Mulder over last night, didn't you?" he asked gently, touching Krycek's shoulder.

"Were we that obvious?"

"Well, you were a little noisy. Don't worry, I would never tell the Old Man."

"Thanks, Bill!" Krycek said gratefully. "You're a buddy. Do you know that he called me this morning, checking up on me again?"

"I believe it, and I believe he'll keep doing it until he's satisfied you're behaving, according to his standards."

"Geez." said Krycek, spooning Meusli. "What's on the agenda today, Bill?"

"Same old same old. Feed the horses, mow the lawn. Did you know that the Old Man is going to have a pool put in?"

"No, I didn't know. I think I'll ride up into the mountains," he said suddenly.

"On Guardian?"

"No, Diablo, I think. He needs the exercise. He's getting fat."

Runningwater nodded.

The phone rang, and Krycek scrambled for it.

"Krycek," he said, in his breathy voice.

"Hey, whatcha know? I got my ring back! I forgot to tell you!"

"You mean, your wedding band? Wow! You forgot to tell me, huh?"

He looked at Bill Runningwater. "Can you do a ceremony?" he asked in a stage whisper. The Indian nodded.

"We're gonna have a ceremony, Mulder!" he said excitedly. "Bill's gonna officiate. We'll renew our vows!"

"Wow, that's great!" Mulder said. "When?"

"When?" Krycek asked the Navajo.

Runningwater rolled his eyes. "Today," he said.

"Today, he says!"

"Wow, OK, I'll get my best duds together...Now am I the bride, or the groom?"

Krycek laughed. "Let's have it at 2:00. Sound like a good time?"

"Sounds like a great time!"

*************************************************

Sharon drove her Miata near the Garden Mall and parked it, proceeding on foot. The holster and gun under her peasant top felt very strange. It was strange, too, when the small brunette woman sitting outside Starbucks hailed her. She had not given the woman her description.

"Are you Sharon Green?" The woman asked. She was very pretty, with a lion's mane of hair and clear gray eyes.

"Yes, you must be Holly Lake. Glad to meet you." They shook hands. Holly's grip was surprisingly firm.

They went in and ordered coffee drinks. Holly had a latte, and Sharon, a cappuccino. "So," said Sharon, "tell me about yourself and why you're interested in our little group."

"Well, as I told you, I'm a Wiccan, have been for about five years, ever since I got divorced," and she laughed. "I was drawn to it because it's a beautiful religion, and because it's pretty much a feminist religion."

"Are you pretty much a feminist, then?"

"Honey, I've always said that men were good for two things, and one of them is heavy lifting."

Sharon giggled politely. "Well, we've got men in our group."

"That's OK." said Holly smoothly. "That's fine." she stirred her latte. "I've heard that you have magic powers, and that also attracted me to you."

"Well, news travels fast!" said Sharon. "I'd thought only a handful of people knew. Where did you say you were from?"

"I didn't. I'm from LA."

"Ah. Well, do you like it here?"

"Well enough. It's pretty, but one of these days I'm gonna have to get a job. The housing prices are terrible!"

"Yes, they are." All during the conversation Sharon tried like crazy to read the woman's thoughts, but she could not. Somehow, she was blocked by a will stronger than any she'd met. "I'm going to have you come to our house and meet some of the members of the group. The gathering we're having in ten days is going to be too intense for a stranger, I'm afraid."

"Yes, you mentioned that, and dark forces? I've got some spells to banish them."

"I'm sure you do, and they are welcomed, but no spell you could perform will banish this force. His name, Holly, is Lucifer. I'm sure you've heard the name before. I carry his child."

She's a live one, thought Nightshade, but this is interesting. "You're pregnant? And you think he's the father?"

"I know he's the father," said Sharon, sipping her cappuccino. "I was present."

The Old Man is gonna love this, thought the other woman. Rosemary of Sharon's baby. "When can I come by to meet all these people?"

Sharon's brows knit together. "I don't know. I have to phone Lexy and see whether he can come over. If he can't, we'll have to meet at his house."

"And who is Lexy?" Got to be this Alex Krycek.

"Oh, Alex. Such a good friend of mine and Mulder's. And Scully's."

"And Mulder and Scully are?"

"They're ... people. Mulder is a professor at the University, Scully is a medical doctor. Just a sec!" she said suddenly, and ran to the back of the store to throw up in the toilet.

Well, she's definitely pregnant. By whom is the question. Could be that Mulder, supposed to swing both ways.

Sharon came back and apologized. "I'm probably going to have to leave. I don't feel well and I should go home and lie down. Please give me your number." "Holly" gave her a card with a number on it. They shook hands and left.

I have a headache, was all she could think of on the drive home. A terrible, terrible headache. She managed to maneuver the Miata into a small parking space, ran inside and collapsed on the couch. Pretty soon she was screaming, and her screams brought Scully running to her. "Where is the headache?" she asked.

"On the right side. Right temple."

"OK, it's a migraine," Scully muttered to herself. "Ergotamine," and she got her bag and looked through it. "Here it is, and the Fiorinal with codeine. OK, I'm going to give you an injection, Sharon, and I'm going to ask you to swallow a pill. Sit up if you can." Sharon sat up and Scully arranged pillows under her to prop her up on the couch. She injected the ergotamine and the girl swallowed the pill obediently. Within a few minutes' time, Sharon was feeling much better.

"What brought this on, do you think?" asked Scully. "Did something stress you out?"

"Well, I met with that Holly Lake, and I tried and tried to read her, but got nothing. Maybe that did it."

"Maybe. Remember, you said yourself your ESP only comes in spurts. Don't sweat it, OK?"

"OK. I'm having her come to meet you all. It might have to be at Alex's house, if he can't come here."

*************************************************

The vows-renewal ceremony would take place at the beachhouse in Pescadero, because there was a stretch of private beach where very few people wandered. Krycek wore his green poet's shirt and black leather jeans, with a gold earring in his ear, and Mulder wore a fisherman's sweater and slacks. Mulder couldn't drink in Krycek enough. "You are exquisite," he told him. "You're not so bad yourself, Mulder," Krycek said.

Bill Runningwater had gathered up two relatives, Agnes and June Tsosie, to act as witnesses. "We are brought here today to honor the wedding vows made by these two men, Alexei Krycek and Fox William Mulder," he said, deep-voiced, as the surf boomed in the background. Alexei, do you take Fox as your wedded husband, and promise to cleave to him, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?

"I do," said Krycek solemnly.

"And do you Fox, take Alexei as your wedded husband, and promise to cleave to him, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?

"I do," said Fox simply. "We place these rings upon our right hands as a symbol of our love, unity, and fealty."

"We place these rings upon our right hands as a symbol of our love, unity, and fealty," echoed Krycek.

"In the name of the Great Spirit, I pronounce you husband and husband. You may kiss," said Bill Runningwater.

Their kiss was a long, slow, deep one. Eventually they had to come up for air. The Tsosies were applauding vigorously.

"You may wish to consummate your love here on the beach, or back at the house. It is your choice," said the Navajo.

Krycek looked at Mulder. "Here, I think," said Mulder.

"When you've finished, there are refreshments at the house," Bill said over his shoulder. The two plump Tsosies hurried toward the house. They knew it would be a good spread.

"I think it would hurt you too much to fuck," said Mulder speculatively. "Wanna suck each other off again?"

"Hey, I never get tired of that!" said Krycek enthusiastically.

They ducked behind a little knoll. It wasn't as breezy here and was protected from prying eyes. Both men pulled off their jeans. "I'll do you first, Alex," Mulder said. "C'mere!" Krycek leaned back and spread his legs. "That looks yummy, Alex," Mulder said, looking at his sizeable erection. He had one, too, of course.

"God, Mulder, talk about yummy! How come you're so hung?"

"For your delectation," said Mulder. He took hold of Krycek's cock with one hand, squeezing it at the base. "Mmm," he said, sliding his mouth onto Krycek's cock. He licked it up and down, teased the head, sucked it as hard as he could. With his free hand he played with Krycek's balls, squeezing them gently. He sucked and sucked and Krycek arched his back and screamed like he'd never heard him scream, shooting a lot of hot sticky liquid down Mulder's throat.

Mulder swallowed and kissed Krycek, who could taste himself in Mulder's mouth. It was very stimulating and he could feel himself, incredibly, getting hard again.

"I could fuck you, Mulder," he said. "That shouldn't be a problem. Let's spoon." They got together, front to back, and Krycek, using some of his own seminal fluid, moistened his cock and placed it at the tight bud of muscle, then firmly in. Mulder gasped. Krycek reached around and got Mulder's cock, pumping it in time to his thrusts. Mulder lasted as long as he could then his whole body was seized by contractions and he yelled with abandon with a pleasure so intense he thought he'd die, coming all over Mulder's hand and running down into the sand.

They lay like that for a long moment, then separated, stood up, shook the sand out of their clothes and got dressed. They walked to the beach house, both of them a little stiff and achy still. Bill Runningwater had managed to put together a feast on very short notice, including fry bread, mutton stew, tostada makings, burritos, crudites and dip. There was a Mai Tai punch, which Bill presided over. "Which one of you is the designated driver?" he queried, and laughed when they pointed to each other.

The Tsosies were happily eating fry bread and mutton stew in the living room, and soon Bill, Krycek and Mulder joined them. "We're visiting relatives," Agnes Tsosie explained. "Our home is in Utah."

"Utah, huh?" Mulder said, shaking his head, and nudged Krycek with his elbow. They would never forget the Hidden Valley Ranch.

Hours passed, seeming to fly by as Krycek told them of the wonders of the ranch in the sky, and they told him about the Navajo religion. "We don't believe in an afterlife as you do. The way Bill believes is different, because of his training in the white colleges and seminaries. We believe that when someone dies, it releases a chindi, which is a mischievous ghost with bad intentions. Kind of like a poltergeist, but worse," June Tsosie told them. "We don't really have a heavenly afterlife as you do. For that, we are envious. Otherwise, we believe our way is best."

"Interesting." said Mulder. "Your religion is very different from, say, the Plains Indians'."

"Yes. To us the Plains Indian religion is the airy-fairy one that the white folks like." Mulder laughed. "Hey, Alex--" but Krycek had partaken of the punch and had fallen asleep on the couch, his mouth slightly parted, long eyelashes fluttering. Mulder kissed him gently, not enough to wake him.

"You can stay here, if you want, Alexei and Mulder," Bill said. "I'm going back home and can cover for you if you get a phone call."

Mulder nudged Krycek gently. "Hey, Alex, want to stay here?" Krycek opened his eyes and licked his lips. "I can't," he said huskily. "Have to get back."

"OK. Bill, I think we're going back. Thanks for everything," he said, hugging the Indian.

"No problem."

Mulder managed to wake Krycek enough to get him strapped into the car, but he was dozy and quiet all the way home. Mulder accompanied him to his front door and kissed him goodbye. "Bye my love, see you soon," he said.

"I love you," said Krycek, giving him a stricken look that Mulder couldn't decipher, but decided it had to do with the Old Man.

"I love you too, Alex Krycek. Now go to bed, sweet dreams!"

Krycek checked his voice mail before he turned in, and sure enough there was a message from the old bastard, wondering where he was.

He punched in a long number, not caring that the time in London was 2 in the morning. "Yes?" he didn't sound sleepy. "Krycek."

"Alex, my boy! Where have we been gallivanting off to now?"

"Nowhere. I just took a long ride on Diablo," he said thinking guiltily of the fat little Arab.

"Next time, take your cell phone with you. I'm surprised you didn't."

Next time you touch me, I'm gonna bite your hand off, Krycek thought savagely. "I'm sorry, Sir."

"That's all right. I think about you all the time, Alex. Are you still working out?"

"Yeah," he said. Another lie. Well, that would be easy to rectify. And he still had the broad chest, narrow waist and flat abs of a gym bunny. One of the back bedrooms was fitted out with Nautilus machines and a Universal Gym, plus a treadmill and free weights.

"Alex?"

"Huh?"

"I was saying, you're not hanging out with Fox Mulder, are you?"

"Me? Naw."

"Alex, this will be pretty easy to check out."

"You've set another spook on me?"

"No need to get hostile."

"I'd say there was every fucking need to get hostile. Don't you get tired of doing that, deploying your spies and having them turn up dead?"

"So you admit killing Fielding and Martinez?"

"I admit nothing!" Krycek cried.

"Alex, do you have any Valium around? I think you should take one."

"I have Klonopin and I'll take one when I need one."

"Alex, listen to me. Fly over here. Come be with me."

"No." he said obstinately.

"You're defying me again?"

"Yes, I am. I can take whatever the consequences are. I always do."

C.G.B. Spender sighed. "Alex, what am I going to do with you?"

"What you always do, I guess."

"Alex, please take a Klonopin. You need to chill, as they say."

"OK," he said, relenting a little. "I'll do that much."

"Good. Take a couple. Then just rest."

"How come you're being so nice to me?" Krycek asked suspiciously.

"No reason. I just care about you, Alexei."

"So what's the name of the spook?"

"I can't tell you that. Just don't kill him or her, OK?"

"'Him or her'? Must be a woman. Is it Nightshade?"

The Smoking Man sighed and lit a Morley. He'd really blown that one.

"I swear to God, she comes around here and I'll kill her," said Krycek.

"Alexei, you are being disrespectful. Go on and take those pills."

Krycek went and found the Klonopin and swallowed four with a glass of spring water, making a face at the bitter taste. "I took 'em, OK?"

"That's good. Now just relax. You are overwrought. And I'll talk to you later, Alexei."

Krycek stood looking at the Klonopin in his hand. There were 60 1-milligram tablets. He went to the sink and took them all. Then he dug around in the medicine chest. He found a bottle of Valium and a bottle of Vicoprofen, and he took all of those. Then he lay down on the couch, and waited for something to happen. In fifteen minutes the phone rang. "What?" he snarled into the handset.

"Alex?" It was Mulder. "Is something wrong?"

"What's wrong is my life, and I don't want to live it anymore."

"Alex, I don't like the sound of that at all. What's going on? Are you thinking of hurting yourself?"

Krycek laughed. "My whole life is about getting hurt, isn't it? I'm fuckin' tired of it!"

"Alex, what did you do? Your voice sounds slurred."

"I took some pills," said Krycek, unwillingly.

"What pills, Alex? How many? SCULLY!" he yelled to the side.

"What is it, Alex?" Scully asked. "He's OD'd," said Mulder.

"What on, Alex?"

"Bunch of crap. Klonopin, Ativan, Vicoprofen."

"Alex, I'm sending help right now."

"No ambulances. Bill can drive me."

"Then let me talk to him."

"BILL!" Krycek yelled, and Runningwater picked up the extension.

"Will you drive Alex to the hospital immediately? He has overdosed."

"Of course! I'll take him right now!"

"Alexei, what have you done?" Runningwater grieved. "We had that ceremony, and I thought you were so happy."

"I was until the Old Man called and ruined everything. Oh, I have to warn them about Nightshade!" he exclaimed.

"I'll call them on the car phone," the Indian said. "What is Nightshade?"

"It's a who, not a what. A spy."

"Oh, god, here we go again," said the Navajo.

By the time they got to Dominican, Krycek was completely goofy and raving. He was admitted and his stomach pumped. Scully and Mulder met Runningwater at the hospital. "I'm going in to see how he's doing," she said. He was lying in a treatment bed and looking very white and drawn.

"How ya doing, Alex?" she asked, taking his hand.

"OK," he whispered. The nasogastric tube had irritated his throat, making it hard to talk. 

"Do you feel as if you need to be in a hospital, Alex? A psychiatric hospital?"

"No," he said. "I'm OK now. Please tell them not to admit me!"

"I will, if you promise not to try to hurt yourself again. What was it over, Alex? You had that ceremony and you are so loved."

He turned his head to one slid and a tear slid out from under his closed lids. "It's the Old Man," he said, choking up. He began to cry, alternating with hiccups. "I can't get away from him. He hurts me. I cannot leave him. He has absolute control over me. He beats me. I have to have sex with him whenever he wants. Where is Mulder?"

"Mulder is right outside this room," she said soothingly, "and he is terribly worried about you. Can you come home with us, Alex? I don't feel that you're safe by yourself."

"I guess I could have the calls forwarded, but he would be suspicious if anyone but me answered the phone, and he would want to talk to Bill"

*************************************************

Sharon felt too ill to join her friends at the hospital, so as much as it distressed her, she acceded to Scully's wishes and stayed home. Her heart was sick for Alex. Now we have two invalids, she thought sadly. After an hour or so she was able to get up and move around. First she had some saltines and 7-up, which stayed down. Then she performed a binding spell: she wrapped knotted cord around a little stuffed doll and buried it in the backyard. The spell was designed to "bind" a person and keep him or her from harming others. It was the only "control" spell she performed. She was not bothered by her infernal lover during this ritual, and for this she was very grateful. 

Mulder and Scully came home with a pale, hoarse and sleepy Krycek, who walked unsteadily and whom they put into Mulder's bed. "I'm just going to check your wounds, Alex. Have the dressings been changed?"

"I think they did that at the hospital," he whispered.

"OK, I'm just going to have a look at things. I'll have to ask you to remove your clothes, Alex. Mulder will help you."

Mulder helped Alex out of his jeans and T-shirt. While doing this, he murmured sweet nothings and Alex became aroused.

"My God, Alex, that's damned impressive!" Scully said, looking at him.

Krycek would have been acutely embarrassed had he not been high on the drugs which had entered his bloodstream before the gastric lavage. "Yeah," he said simply.

"These wounds are healing well, and your bullet wounds too. You and Mulder are both pretty tough. You should take sponge baths instead of showers, though, for about a week. I'm sure Mulder will be happy to help."

"OK," said Krycek, letting his head fall back against the pillows. Scully left the room and Mulder was left to fuss over Krycek. He grasped Krycek's cock and stroked him to orgasm, Krycek yelling hoarsely and shooting hot come all over Mulder's hand and his belly, but then Mulder was left with an achingly hard erection. He unzipped himself, took out his cock and stroked himself to orgasm, yelling louder than Krycek had.

"I love watching you do that," Krycek commented. "I'm kind of tired and weak and it would be hard for me to do, but looking at you is great."

"You'll be up to par in no time," Mulder said, stroking Krycek's soft hair. "Poor baby. All the hurts you've had to endure."

"That feels good," said Krycek. "Don't stop."

Mulder stroked his hair and kissed his face, his lips, and up and down his body.

There was a knock at the door. "Uh, guys..." It was Scully.

They looked at each other. "Yes?" asked Mulder.

She came in, looked at them, and shook her head. "I hate to tell you this, but I don't think you should be having sex till those stitches come out. Maybe oral sex if you're really careful, but no anal sex, OK?"

"OK," whispered Krycek, taking this with aplomb. Mulder, however, blushed to the roots of his hair.

"Mulder," said Scully, "I have never, ever seen you blush!"

Krycek's cell phone shrilled. He picked it up. "Krycek."

"Why are you whispering, Alex?"

"Because I tried to kill myself with an overdose and they pumped my stomach."

"You WHAT!"

"You heard me. Sir."

"Alex, what's the matter? You have every material thing you could possibly want, a good friend in Bill Runningwater, your beautiful horses, the run of the estate..."

"I can't stand my life, sir. I'm in bondage, a slave."

"Don't think of it that way. Think of it as returning all the favors I've done you, including some recent ones."

Krycek sighed. He could hear the hiss of a lighter and he could imagine the Old Man starting on a pack of Morleys. "I want to leave," he said at last. "What, leave everything behind? You can't do that, Alex!"

"Why not? Because you own me?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. Is Bill Runningwater taking care of you?"

"Yes," Alex lied. "He is."

"Put him on."

"He's out back with the horses."

"OK. Where are you, Alex?"

"You should know; you called me at home."

"Have you forwarded the calls?"

"No." he said guiltily.

"OK. I'm going to try to believe you this time. Alex, wait till you see all the lovely gifts I have for you!"

"I'm sure they are, sir."

Krycek hung up the phone exhausted. "I just can't deal with the old bastard right now."

"I don't blame you," said Mulder, sympathy and compassion writ large on his face. "Oh, Alex, I love you so much!"

"Then climb into bed with me. Let's snuggle!"

Mulder removed his clothes and cuddled with Krycek until his lover fell asleep. Mulder kissed his closed eyes, loving the way his long silky lashes lay on his face like a black curtain, through which his luminous green eyes could be glimpsed.

*************************************************

When White got home that evening, he heard the news from Scully. He jogged up the stairs to Mulder's room, knocking gently on the door. "Hi guys," he said. "How's Alex?"

"Alex is fine," Krycek said, pulling his robe about him and sitting up in bed. Beside him, Mulder grunted.

"Heard you had a misadventure, boy," White said. "You can't be doing that anymore, you hear? We need you. Besides, we like you," he said, ever-so-gently punching Krycek in the arm.

"Thanks," said Krycek, smiling all over his light-built face.

"If there's anything you ever need, you ask, hear me?"

"Thank you. Thank you so much!"

When White left the room, gently closing the door behind him, Krycek got out of bed and began rustling around in Mulder's cabinets and drawers for some clean clothes.

"Mgryudooig?" asked Mulder, regarding him with one eye.

"I'm just getting some clothes, Mulder. I'm checking for loose ones of yours."

"Rubgrgame?"

"Yes, I am a bit, just a skosh bigger than you are. Ah, here we are!" He'd found a pair of jeans and shirt that looked like they'd fit. He skinned off his robes and tried them on, and they fit perfectly. Standing in front of the full-length mirror, he caught Mulder's reflection. Mulder was crying.

"I'm sorry," Mulder sobbed, "I'm sorry about what happened to you in Tunguska! So sorry, Alex! Can you ever forgive me?"

Krycek came over to him and hugged him. "I don't see how that was your fault! That truck had bad brakes! There were those...people...in the woods who... Well, anyway, none of it was your fault, my love! There's nothing to forgive!"

Mulder grabbed him and sobbed into his chest. "I almost lost you today! Alex, oh Alex! I couldn't stand to live without you!"

"I couldn't stand to live without you either, Mulder."

"You almost left me," Mulder said bitterly. "Today, you almost left me. If I hadn't called you then...I hate to think what would have happened."

"I'm sorry, Mulder! The situation with the Old Man is pretty damned unbearable."

"That's why I keep asking you to leave him and come to me! I am your husband, I am your lover, I."

"It isn't that easy, Mulder. We've been over this before. He would find me, track me down no matter where I went. You know that."

Mulder sighed. "OK. I don't like the situation, but there's nothing I can do to change it. So I'll just have to be happy with what I have...How would you like a sponge bath now, Alex?"

Krycek stood on the tile bathroom floor. Mulder removed his dressings and gently sponged him. "Does anything hurt?" he asked gently. Krycek shook his head. "No. That feels really good, though, what you're doing," he said. He felt his cock stiffen under the pleasant ministrations of Mulder and his sea sponge. Without a word, Mulder knelt and took him in his mouth. Krycek gasped. Mulder tasted raspberry shower gel and Krycek's own distinctive, musky/salty flavor. Keeping his hands off the sensitive sutured areas, he sucked and tongued Krycek's cock. He reached down and unzipped, pulled himself out and began stroking himself in time to his sucking.

"Shouldn't I be doing that?" Krycek gasped out.

Mulder shook his head and continued to suck Krycek's cock until the younger man thought his knees would give way and he was wracked by incredibly pleasurable spasms, shooting hot come into Mulder's mouth. Mulder licked him off and then came all over himself with a cry.

Gradually the two became aware of the woman standing in the bathroom doorway. It was Scully, and she had a funny expression on her face: a mixture of love, and awe, and sorrow. "I guess you didn't hear me knock." she said.

"Geez, Scully, am I gonna have to put a deadbolt on the door?" Mulder asked, aggrieved.

She laughed. "I did knock, but I can understand why you didn't hear me. Anyway, I wanted you to know, there's some dinner, if you want it. It's on the table. The Lone Gunmen are down there chowing down."

"OK, thanks," Krycek said huskily. Scully smiled and left.

"How much do you think she saw?" he asked. Mulder shrugged. 

"Who knows? It doesn't matter; she's a doctor, and she's our friend."

Krycek nodded. "Let's get dressed and go eat," said Mulder.

"I'm really not hungry."

"You should eat something."

Krycek shook his head. "I'll try. Do you have ice cream?" he asked hopefully. "I could have a milkshake. My throat."

"I think we do. Come on, let's go down."

*************************************************

The tall man sat alone in his penthouse suite, drinking iced coffee laced with bourbon. It was very late, in the wee small hours of the morning, but he was wide awake. As usual, he was chain-smoking cigarettes; he had one in his hand, which he held European-style, between thumb and forefinger; and two more smoldering in a cut-crystal ashtray.

He leaned back in the comfortable leather chair, thinking. He was thinking about the mission, and about Nightshade. And about Alex. He realized Nightshade was possibly their last-ditch attempt to salvage the mission, and she was a good one. Tough, and smart, and young. And unlike the three previous goofs, she was able to infiltrate the Scully/White/Mulder ranks and actually give them some useful information.

He swirled the drink in his hand, clinking the ice cubes; and he took another hit off his cigarette. As usual, he'd given strict orders not to harm Mulder or Krycek; and as usual, these orders would probably go unregarded. He had to take the chance, though. So much was at stake.

Damn Alex, why did he have to try to kill himself? He had so much to live for...The Smoking Man didn't like it one bit that Alex had been able to guess the identity of the operative. He'd met her, he knew what she looked like, and would make her in a hot second. He toyed idly with the idea of having Krycek locked up for a while. No; what would that help? He'd surely have passed on the information about Nightshade to Mulder or Scully already. The damage was done.

Now, was Krycek really at home or was he forwarding his calls? The tall man decided that the latter was the more probable of the two choices. Well, he'd let him be for the time being. He would be there soon enough, and he would swoop down upon Krycek like an avenging angel. He wouldn't hurt him permanently, just enough to let him know who was boss. The tall man studied the embossed-plaster ceiling as though it was the most interesting thing in the world. Alex had been at one time the most dangerous man alive, and he was still feral and fierce. It gave the Smoking Man a thrill to subdue him and subjugate him to his dark will.

*************************************************

"Hey, guys," Mulder said easily to the Lone Gunmen, who were eating ham and eggs. 

"Hi!" they chorused. "Oh, hi, Alex," said Byers. "How are you, Alex?" asked Frohike. Langly concentrated on his food.

"I'm doing better," said Krycek breathily. "Thank you!"

"Ham?" asked Byers.

"Thank you," said Mulder. "Here, Alex, take some ham." Krycek reluctantly took a slice.

"What have you guys been up to?" asked Mulder.

"Oh, this and that," said Frohike.

"We're helping Sharon," Langly said proudly.

"Oh? How are you doing that?"

"We're rounding up the people she needs for her ceremony," said Byers. "Scully found the Catholic priest, and so far we've found a Buddhist monk, a Hindu yogi and a Sikh holy man. We just have a Native American and a Muslim to get now. Oh, and a Protestant minister."

Mulder raised his eyebrows, spearing ham with a fork. "Wow, you guys have been busy. Want any help? You know, Bill Runningwater is both Indian and a minister. Have you asked him?"

"No, we haven't, but we will. We want to get a Plains Indian too."

Mulder nodded. "Sounds good, boys. I'm really happy that you're able to help."

Byers spread his hands. "Hey, what else would we do?"

Krycek played with his food and ate very little. "Would you rather have cereal, Alex?" Mulder asked him gently.

"Yes, maybe that would be better. I'll go get it." he found a box of Meusli and poured some out, drowning it in milk.

"Cereal," said Langly. "A man after my own heart, except that I prefer the sugared variety."

Krycek looked at the man who had tried to kill him with a letter bomb at the Hidden Valley, and smiled gravely. "I like those, too," he said.

Scully and White walked into the kitchen. "Guys," White said, "we've got to have another summit meeting. We're only 9 days away from D-Day. We've got to identify the holes and how to plug 'em. I say here, tomorrow, at 9 am after breakfast." Everyone nodded.

"Where is Sharon?" Frohike asked.

"In her room, not feeling well," Scully said, shaking her head. "She's got morning sickness and she's still got that headache."

"I've got something that might not wait till the meeting," Mulder said. "We've got another spy after us, and according to Krycek, she's really lethal. Alex, tell them about her."

Krycek looked up. "Her code name is Nightshade. Her real name is Barbara Donaldson, but she goes by any one of about 100 aliases. She may be blonde or brunette; she has gray eyes, but she may be wearing colored contacts. She's about Scully's height and build. She has a friendly demeanor and she will try various angles to get in good with any one of you. Lone Gunmen, even though she is a very pretty woman, do not be tempted to make friends with her. We want to be able to neutralize her upon identification."

"Another one I've got to mop up for you? Aw geez," said White, smacking his forehead with his palm.

"I know of no other way to take care of her, White," Krycek said steadily. "Believe me, she's the toughest, the meanest and the deadliest we've met so far."

"Shit. Well, we'll discuss this tomorrow, OK?" White asked. "I've got to make an appearance at the office. Scully's coming with me. They found another couple of bodies, washed up on the beach."

Mulder looked up from his food. "Near Aptos?" he asked.

White nodded. "Probably the fallout from that meeting you attended the other day. One of the fellows had his ID still on him. It's that ex-husband of Sharon's -- Jason Throughgood."

"My God! Have you told her?"

"Yes. That's another reason she's still in her room. I don't know if she's exactly mourning him or what."

Krycek snorted. "'What' is more like it, from what I've heard about the guy."

"He was a shapeshifter," said Frohike. "He was very advanced in the black arts."

"Not advanced enough, apparently," said White. He gathered up his jacket. "Dana!" he called, "we're leaving!" 

She came running down the stairs. "Here I am! Bye, Mulder and Alex and Gunmen! I'll be back in a few hours. Just call me on my cell phone if you need me!"

*************************************************

"My guess is that they were simply thrown into the ocean, and drowned. Drowning seems to be the proximate cause of death. There is a lot of water in Throughgood's lungs. There would be none if he had been killed prior to being thrown in the water."

She looked over at the other body. "I haven't ID'd that one; he didn't have a wallet. From his leather jacket with club insignia, I'd say he belonged to the motorcycle club we ran into in Pescadero."

White nodded. "What about the markings?"

"Well, you know, we got a lot of 'death to Sharon's, but I guess since he's taken Sharon as his bride, partly to have the child and partly to subjugate her and control her, we're not getting those anymore. These say, 'for my love'."

White shook his head. "That is grisly. He's killing them for her? Or he's killing them as a warning to her?"

She paused, scalpel in gloved hand. "I don't know which, if either. Maybe both, maybe neither. I don't think he'll do anything to harm her now that she'd pregnant with his child. I think that baby is probably the Antichrist predicted in Revelations."

"Jesus Christ!" White swore. "It gets weirder and weirder, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does," she said, making an incision into the abdomen. "I like to be thorough," she explained.

*************************************************

Upon hearing that Jason had died, Sharon, knowing that he was probably beyond prayer, said one anyway for him. The poor misguided soul. He had a lot of bad karma to work off.

She got out of bed and performed another ritual, this time with two candles, a gold and a silver, standing for God and Goddess. She invoked their protection and care for everyone in the household and in her Wiccan group, placing the candles in the bathtub with another note.

Wiccan group. What did that remind her of? Oh, yeah, she was going to call Holly Lake and invite her over. She went down the steps slowly. Her head was still hurting her. She had no idea where the headache had come from, except that it had seemed to start after her unsuccessful attempt at "reading" Ms. Lake.

She made her way to the phone, waving hi to the Lone Gunmen. The three silly guys had turned out to be wonderful friends and allies.

"Holly, this is Sharon Green. How would you like to come by tomorrow around noon? We can have lunch and whatever. You would? Great. It's 1013 Steamer's Lane, near West Lake Drive. Big white house, big yard. Can't miss it."

Hanging up the phone, she felt she'd accomplished something.

"Who are you inviting over?" asked Byers.

"Her name is Holly Lake. She's a really nice lady and she's a Wiccan, wants to investigate my group."

"Oh," said Byers. "Why don't you have your Wiccan friends over more often?"

Sharon's brows knit. "You know, I should. But now is not the time. I think I'll just call them and let them know what's happening."

"Are you going to tell them, you know, all the stuff? Isn't it classified?"

She nodded. "Yes, it is. I'll just tell them about D-Day because their attendance there is required."

"Right. But don't invite them to our summit," said Frohike, with dignity.

She smiled at him. "You're so cute, Frohike, you know that?"

He blushed.

*************************************************

Barbara Donaldson, aka Nightshade, was going through the stuff she'd brought from the East Coast, looking for just the right outfit for tomorrow. She supposed she could wear jeans with a peasant top, but then decided on a long skirt to coordinate with the top. She would slick her hair down with gel and pull it back, and the transformation to Wiccan would be complete.

Really, it was going to be ridiculously easy to get information out of that sweet and simple girl, Sharon Green. Like taking candy from a baby, she thought, and hummed a little tune. She'd received a call from the Old Man a little while ago, warning her about Alex Krycek. Well, if the Ratboy was stupid enough to get in her way, she would take him out. She had no scruples about killing if it furthered her aims. Too cool for school, she thought, admiring her reflection in the peasant dress.

*************************************************

Sharon sat down at the kitchen table. "OK, you guys, tomorrow after the meeting and all? Can you help me round up the remaining men and women of God? You've done a marvelous job so far and you're a great help to me."

"Sure, of course," said Byers. "Sure!" said Frohike. "Right on!" said Langly. "We'll do anything for you!" he offered, and the others agreed.

"A lot of my time is taken up with rituals for power and protection," she said gravely. "These are pretty much things that only I can do. Too, I'm sick a lot, so that means I'm useless during that time. I really, really appreciate the things you do."

She thought a moment, then kissed each man on the lips before going up to her room. They sat for a moment, quietly. "Don't you love it when she does that?" asked Frohike.

*************************************************

Mulder and Krycek decided to spend the rest of the evening in bed. They shucked off their clothes and lay nude and touching, skin to skin. "I wanna fuck so bad," said Krycek.

"I know, but the doctor told us not to."

"Well, can I suck you, Mulder?"

"I'd love that," said Mulder, drowsily. Krycek kissed him deeply and thoroughly, tongue meeting tongue, feeding on Mulder's full lips, kissing his neck and raising a hickey, licking down his chest, tonguing his nipples till they stood at full attention, licking down his abdomen and sucking his navel before licking the insides of Mulder's thighs, the perineum and then he rimmed him. Mulder gasped and writhed. Krycek kissed back up his thighs, licked and sucked his balls, one at a time. Mulder moaned. Then Krycek lipped the very tip of Mulder's huge cock, and licked down the sides of the shaft, and under in the most sensitive spot right under the head. Mulder was practically howling. "Suck me, Alex! Suck me hard! Now!" He tried to fuck Krycek's mouth but Krycek restrained him and sucked down on Mulder's cock, swallowing it from root to tip, his throat massaging the head, his lips, tongue and mouth working his cock in long, swift strokes. "I'm gonna come, Alex," Mulder said, and arched his back, screaming, as he spurted hot fluid down Krycek's throat.

"Now what can I do for you?" Mulder asked, when he could speak.

"Just jack me off, Mulder. That would be nice. There's lube in my jacket pocket."

Mulder found the lube and slicked his palms and Krycek's cock, stroking it rhythmically. He kissed Krycek meanwhile, nipping at his lips, tonguing his mouth, kissing him as deeply as he could. "My lisitsa, it is so good," Krycek breathed, and then he came, yelling Mulder's name and shooting come all over the place.

They lay for a long time, limbs entangled, smelling deliciously of sex. 

"Mulder?"

"Alex?"

"If I ever manage to ditch the Old Man, do you think we could live together?"

"Of course. I'm assuming that we will."

"I love you, Mulder."

"God, I love you, Alex."

"Do you know," said Krycek, "This is the first time I've really been in love."

"No kidding! Well, this is the most in love I've ever been."

"You've had girlfriends, right Mulder?"

"I've had a few. I liked them but I didn't love them. Ever done it with a woman, Alex?"

"Yes, I have. A few times. I didn't like it that much. Women are too soft and leaky and squishy."

Mulder laughed. "You're funny! But that's my take on women, too! Don't get me wrong, I like women very much. Scully's been my best friend like forever."

"Don't you consider me your best friend?"

"You are the love of my life and the light of my existence. I couldn't live without you. How's that sound?"

"Sounds pretty good," admitted Krycek cautiously.

Krycek's cell phone rang shrilly. "Goddam," he said, reaching for it.

"Krycek," he said breathily.

"Alex, are you at home?"

"I'm outside, checking on the horses and the fences," he lied swiftly.

"You're a liar, Alex," the Smoking Man said with infinite patience. "Put Fox Mulder on."

Krycek sighed and passed the phone to Mulder. "Mulder," he said, warily.

"Fox, I'm going to have to advise you to keep your hands off your father's property."

"Property?! You can't own a human being, and you don't own Alex!"

"Oh, I can and I do. I'm going to tell you again: Don't underestimate me, Fox!"

"Oh, is that a threat?"

There was the hiss of a lighter. He was working on another cancer stick. "I'm not going to hurt you, Fox, if that's what you mean," the man said wearily. "I just want you to keep the hell away from my Alex Krycek. Do you realize that I end up punishing Alex for these visits? You are in effect the one hurting him."

"That's really twisted." You bastard.

"Well, I don't want to argue with you. Just do as I say and things will go better for Alex."

"Doesn't the fact that he tried to kill himself today make any impression on you at all? He's desperately unhappy in his relationship with you, so much so that he tried to take his own life, and almost succeeded."

"He is probably in need of some counseling, and I'll get it for him. Now I don't want to argue with you anymore! Fox, I have the power to get you taken off your case, and more. I haven't because you are my son, and I love you." 

Mulder rolled his eyes.

"So take Alex back home. Do it now."

Mulder punched the "off" button. "That controlling, vicious, conniving evil son of a bitch prick bastard." he spat out.

Krycek rolled over in bed. "I guess I'll have to leave soon," he said, "but I don't want to leave until I've thoroughly fucked you, and you me."

Mulder's cock grew hard instantly. He pressed Krycek to the bed. "I don't care what Scully says, I'm gonna fuck you. If it hurts you, I'll stop immediately."

He slicked his cock and three fingers of his right hand with lube. Kneeling over the supine Krycek, he inserted one finger into Krycek's ass. He gasped. Then Mulder worked two fingers in, then three, to stretch him. When he sensed Krycek was thoroughly stretched, he pressed his cock head against the tight bud and then in, his wonderful full length. Krycek moaned and writhed. "God, Mulder, fuck me!" he said, and Mulder did, thrusting hard. Krycek came pretty fast all over his belly, and then Mulder had a screaming orgasm, yelling "Alex!" and shooting hot semen into Krycek's heat.

Mulder collapsed on top of Krycek. "My god!" he said. "Alex, you're so incredibly hot!"

"Hey, so are you, Mulder! You have the most amazing cock, for starters. You are hung like a stallion."

"Why, thank you. You're not so bad yourself in that department."

There was a knock on the door. Mulder pulled the blankets up around himself and said, "come in!"

It was Scully, of course. "I heard you guys yelling, and you better not have been having any penetrative sex," she said severely.

"Aw, Scully," Mulder said. "It didn't cause his sutures to pop. He's OK."

"I'm going to look," she said with determination. "Alex, pull the blankets down. OK, those sutures are all right. Now turn over. Don't mind my fingers. OK, those are all right too. You're lucky," she said, assuming her scolding pose. "If those wounds were to open, and I admit that they're healing really well, but they could still pop, then there would be hell to pay. Don't do it again!" and she exited the room.

Krycek looked at Mulder and they both collapsed in giggles.

*************************************************

It was 6 in the morning when The First Elder decided to call an emergency meeting. They assembled, the older men, quietly in the conference room. They were missing one party: the Smoking Man. He was left out on purpose, as he couldn't know what they were to say.

"There are issues here of worldwide importance, and actions need to be taken in order to ensure the success of our mission. We need to come to the decision to terminate Alex Krycek, and possibly Fox Mulder, Dana Scully and David White. With them out of the way, we can then go forward with our actions."

"My God, man!" said the Well-Manicured Man. You can't just murder three Federal Agents and the big guy's pet plaything and get away with it!"

"Oh, can't I? I can make it look like an accident. This Nightshade will handle it."

At that precise moment C.G.B. Spender's tall and broad-shouldered frame appeared in the doorway. "I heard you!" he thundered. "You are not to hurt Alex Krycek or Fox Mulder! If you do, I'll kill you! And it won't be a quick death!"

The First Elder went completely white. All conversation in the room stopped. "I was just talking speculatively," he said at last. 

"You can speculate about someone else! This is almost beyond belief!" he paced the room and lit a Morley. "Mulder and Krycek are mine, and mine alone! You are not to touch them! If I hear that Nightshade has it in mind to terminate these men, I will terminate her!"

He sucked in and expelled smoke. "The orders to the operatives are always the same: carte blanche, but not in the matter of Mulder and Krycek! They haven't been following orders very well, have they?"

There was a big bubble of silence in the room that could have been burst with the tiniest pinprick.

Finally, he said, "We need Scully and White to help guide us to the larger truth we're seeking here. So they're off limits too."

"We just need good sense about this thing," said an elderly man. "We have the date of D-Day, not the place. We need to find that out, and any other pertinent information. Then we can leave the FBI alone. For a while," he added.

The Smoking Man took a drag on his Morley. "Yes, that plan does make more sense than to start killing everyone off."

"Krycek has killed off three of our people already," remarked The First Elder. "He'll probably get Nightshade as well. If we can't terminate him, then maybe we could lock him up?" 

"No," said the Smoking Man swiftly, stubbing out his cigarette in a ceramic ashtray.

"Oh, why not?" asked the WMM.

"Because he's already guessed the identity of Nightshade. When he sees her, he will make her."

"All the more reason to incarcerate him."

"No. He's already told the FBI everything he knows about her, her description, you can bet on it."

"They might not recognize her."

"Mulder will," he said, lighting another cigarette.

"So what you're saying is, the mission is doomed anyway?"

"No, by keeping Krycek at my house, a virtual prisoner, he will not come into contact with Nightshade."

"That's not good enough," said The First Elder. "I move to lock him up."

"I won't do it!" the Smoking Man said harshly, exhaling smoke. "You can just abandon that plan! And if you do go over my head and do that, I'll just get him out again!"

"Good God, Man! Once again, you're letting your johnson override your higher brain functions!"

The Smoking Man gave him a dirty look. "That's my personal, private business!"

His eyes swept the room. "Do not defy me!" he said, "and please be sure to include me in your conferences in the future." He turned on his heel and left the room, black trenchcoat waving about his tall, lanky frame dramatically.

*************************************************

Since Krycek and Mulder were already in bed, then didn't bother getting up for anything but a shower: Mulder had the shower, Krycek had another sponge bath. They were actually too tired to have sex, so they postponed it.

In the morning they crawled out of bed, got dressed and went trooping down the stairs with the rest of the household. Some people ate breakfast and the rest went immediately to the livingroom and sat down; Krycek and Mulder were among these last. It was 9 o'clock soon enough.

"OK!" said White, "summit meeting comes to order! First off, report by Sharon Green."

"OK," said Sharon, "I've been working closely with the Lone Gunmen and Scully recruiting men of God for D-Day, men and women of all different religions. We hope in this way to raise enough power to send the Devil back and close the door. So far, we've got a Catholic priest, a Buddhist, a Hindu and a Sikh. We still need a Native American, at least one. I'm told that Bill Runningwater, a Navajo holy man, is also a Unitarian minister. That would kill two birds with one stone. We also need a Muslim, if any will come, and a rabbi. Anyone with any ideas, please let me know."

"I've also called and notified all the members of my wicca group that their presence is requested, and I'm sure they'll show up. The other item concerns a Wiccan woman who'd like to become a member of our group. She says she is not afraid of dark forces."

"What's she look like?" Krycek asked idly. Mulder elbowed him. Sharon looked at him and laughed.

"She is small and slim, Scully's build, with big sort of tawny-bronzy brunette hair. Gray eyes, very striking, very pretty. Krycek sat up straight.

"What is her name?" he asked softly. 

"Oh, Holly Lake. Sounds like a fakey kind of name."

"It is. That sounds like our spy, Deadly Nightshade."

Sharon gasped. "No! It can't be!"

"Oh, it can!" Krycek settled back on the couch.

"Are you sure of this, Alex?" White asked.

"Fairly sure. I'd have to see her to ID her for certain, but it sounds like her. I say bring her in today, then I can deal with her."

White eyed him. "Don't even think about killing her, Alexei Krycek."

Krycek smiled. "Don't worry, I won't."

"OK, Sharon, were you done? Yes? Let's hear from Scully next."

"OK," said Scully. "We're all dealing with the aftermath of the ordeal with the spy Highland. Krycek and Mulder were wounded pretty badly. The death of Highland has been suppressed from on high in the FBI." Krycek smirked, ever so slightly.

"Supernatural phenomena were observed around the Left Hand Path meeting, and afterward. Sharon is still being hounded by the entity that impregnated her. She is having a rough pregnancy, and she has all our sympathy. I attempted an abortion on her, even though I am Catholic, because we want to get rid of the entity's demon child, and I was unsuccessful."

"Two bodies washed up ashore on an Aptos beach, apparently just drowned, but with Hebrew markings that say approximately, 'for my love.'" Sharon gasped.

"All right, let's hear from Krycek next," said White.

"OK, I think the most urgent matter of business in this whole meeting is the presence of the spy, Nightshade. We have to do something about her, and I don't mean necessarily killing her," he said casually. "We can't allow her to infiltrate our ranks, or the Wiccan group."

"On another note, you all know I attempted suicide. This has something to do with the fact that I am tied to the infamous Smoking Man, otherwise known as C.G. B. Spender. This is the man who is sending out the operatives! He is trying to harness the power of the dark force, the Devil. I am not supposed to be associating with you, but I have to keep my commitments. You are all wonderful people who have shown me great compassion."

White nodded. "Mulder?" he queried.

"Well, my bullet holes are aching," he said solemnly. "The Left Hand Path meeting was almost deadly to us, as the spy Highland was present and chased us down on an Aptos lane. During the meeting, Sharon was hailed as the mother of the new god and the Entity put in an appearance. Highland captured two of us and Sharon was actually whisked away by the Entity and taken home, by what means we cannot say. He or it seems to be protecting her, due to the pregnancy.

"Highland cuffed, tied and tried to kill us. He tried to torture Krycek to death. Krycek killed him."

"OK, Lone Gunmen? Would any of you like to talk?"

Byers cleared his throat. "We have been assisting Sharon in the recruitment of men of God of all faiths. It isn't simply a matter of finding them, but of convincing them that what we're talking about is real and legitimate, and that attending a Wicca service is a good idea. They've been surprisingly willing to attend."

"OK, now it's my turn," said White. "Given that this girl is the spy, Nightshade, I have to come up with a plan to deal with her, and I don't mean killing her, Alex," he said, looking at Krycek, "Any and all suggestions are entirely welcome. At this point I am thinking of locking her up for espionage."

"I'm well-placed, in a high-ranking position in the police department, so I can pretty much do what I want, and that mostly entails investigating the vagaries of the case as they present themselves. I've seen all the bodies, and there is a common thread: the Entity."

"These are the things that need to happen in the next few days: all the religious leaders must be rounded up; Nightshade must be checked out; Alex and Mulder need to heal; proper garments must be procured for D-Day, for all those that wish to be there; and it is not mandatory. It is likely to be extremely hazardous. And that about wraps it up."

Sharon stood up. "Excuse me," she said, and ran to the bathroom, hurling her guts out.

After the meeting wrapped, Mulder and Krycek went upstairs. Scully followed them. "I need to check you guys." She looked at Mulder's bullet wounds and pronounced them healing well. "Take off your clothes, Alex, you know the drill."

He stripped and she examined him front and back. "Not too bad, not bad," she said. "You can start showering now, but I swear if you do penetrative sex I'll come in here and bust you. You guys," she said, shaking her head, "are more in love than anyone I've ever seen. And more in lust," she laughed. "OK, go for it!"

She left them and there they stood, undressed. They embraced and kissed, long and hard and deep.

Each took the hardening cock of the other in hand, rubbing and stroking while they kissed. "Feels good, Alex," Mulder murmured, running his hand through Krycek's soft hair. "Yeah, likewise," Krycek said. They rubbed and pumped and kissed and kissed, and their orgasms were simultaneous. They each screamed the name of the other and spurted all over each other's stomachs.

"Shower time!" said Mulder. Then Krycek's cell phone shrilled. "Oh god," he said. "I'm just going to let it go to voice mail. And all the other calls, too," he said thoughtfully.

They started the shower and stepped in. They took turns rubbing each other with the sea sponge soaked with raspberry shower gel. They made a big lather, foam everywhere, and they both got erections. "I'm gonna fuck you, Mulder," Krycek said suddenly. "I don't care what Scully says! Stand against the wall, that's good." Krycek ran his slick cock into Mulder's heat. Mulder gasped and moaned. Krycek reached around to grasp Mulder's cock, which he stroked in time to his thrusts deep into Mulder's ass. As he pumped he kissed and bit the back of Mulder's neck. Mulder came fast and very hard, yelling with abandon. Then Krycek came as hard as he ever had, gasping and screaming. They stood for a moment together then separated. There came a knock at the door.

"Jesus H. Christ," Krycek swore. 

"What is it, Scully?" Mulder called. But it wasn't Scully, it was Sharon. "Lexy has a phone call!" she shouted. "On the house phone!"

Krycek cursed and swore and picked up the extension. "Krycek," he said, bitterly.

"Alex, have I interrupted you?" God, that voice that haunted his darkest nightmares.

"No," he said, dripping water and shower gel foam all over the carpet.

"Why are you still there?"

"Because I...because this is my home."

"No, it isn't. You know where your home is. Alex, do you remember that I threatened to handcuff you to the bed? Did you think that was an empty threat?"

Silence. Stubborn silence.

"Alex, today or tomorrow, a couple of my people will come for you, and they will take you home, where they will handcuff you to the bed."

"Jesus Christ," said Krycek.

"You will be allowed to go to the bathroom, bathe and eat, but the rest of the time you will spend cuffed to that bed. And there you will be when I arrive. I've moved up the date so I'll get there in about 10 days. I very much look forward to seeing you. Goodbye."

Krycek stood staring stupidly at the phone and making little puddles in the carpet.

"What?" asked Mulder.

"He's gonna send a couple goons to pick me up and take me home and cuff me to the bed," he said. "He threatened to do that. Now, he's gonna do it. What am I gonna do?"

"Hey, we've got guns. Those goons will never have a chance," said Mulder confidently.

Krycek shook his head. "His people are very wily."

"Well, look, we'll keep close tabs on you. And hey, we've got a psychic living here, remember? She can scope people out at a hundred paces."

Krycek smiled, showing a flash of very white teeth. "I know. It's awesome, isn't it?"

"Hey, Sharon!" he called. "Will you save me from being abducted?"

"No," she called back. "I can't do that, Lexy."

*************************************************

Barbara Donaldson, aka Holly Lake, made a few last-minute adjustments to her outfit. Flat sandals rather than heels. Flowing hair, albeit slicked-down with gel, rather than pulled back. Tiniest bit of neutral makeup. Great! She was ready for bear!

She drove her Ferrari to the Steamer's house and parked on the street as directed. Sharon answered the door. Well, maybe she should have worn jeans. That's what Ms. Green was wearing, and an old T-shirt, too big, probably designed to hide her full breasts, but it tended to emphasize them instead. The girl could use some fashion advice, but other than that she was stunning, perhaps the most beautiful woman Donaldson had ever seen. She felt a twinge of feminine jealousy for just a nanosecond, then she was all business.

"I'm Holly," she said, proffering her hand. Sharon took it in a surprisingly firm grip. "Sharon. Glad to meet you! Won't you come in?" When Holly was seated, Sharon offered her wine, cheese and crackers, and she thanked her, but declined the wine. She never wanted to be anything but alert and vigilant.

"So you're a Wiccan," Sharon said easily. "Tell me about your Tradition."

Holly was glad she'd read up on the religion. "I really don't have a tradition. I'm more of a kitchen witch."

Sharon nodded. "Well, that's fine. Our group is Gardnerian more than anything. Is that something you could live with?"

"Well, of course," said Holly. "I like to keep an open mind about things."

"We're having a big do in a few days...at an undisclosed location," Sharon said softly, looking at the other's eyes. They looked into hers, large, greeny-gray, and beautiful. This one is good, she thought, very good at what she does.

There was a soft footfall on the stairs and they looked up. It was Mulder. "So, thinking of joining our little group, are you, Holly?" he asked, coming forward and taking her hand. "Got a strong grip," he said, "like a fighter. Know any marshal arts, Holly?"

"No, of course not, what a question!" she laughed.

"You never know. A lot of New Age types are into Aikido and Tai Chi," he said, and smiled at her. "You know, if only I weren't queer, I'd be interested in you," he added.

"Mulder!" said Sharon, laughing. "Don't scare her off now."

"Don't worry," said Nightshade. "I don't scare easily."

I get that you don't, thought Sharon, although I don't know why. I can't read your barricaded mind. The fact that it IS so guarded is some indication that all is not as it should be with you. I will not trust you as wholeheartedly as I would have otherwise, even though you look the part, sound the part of a Wiccan. I don't know that I want you at my ritual.

About an hour later Krycek went out to get the mail. He did not have his gun on him. He heard a car door open but was engrossed with the mail and did not look up until he heard footsteps. He went immediately into a combat stance, but it was no use. The two big men overpowered him and put a cloth over his face. There was something sickly sweet in the cloth and Krycek felt himself sagging, rapidly losing consciousness.

When he came to he was lying on the big king-sized bed in the master bedroom of the Soquel house. Something was wrong, though, because he couldn't move his arm. He looked and confirmed the fact that he was literally cuffed to the ornate cast-iron headboard. "Bill!" he called. "Bill!"

Bill Runningwater came into the room, looking worried and old. "I didn't do it, Alexei. There are two men in the livingroom who won't talk to me. I think this was arranged by the Old Man."

"Yes, it was," said Krycek bitterly. "He threatened to do it, now he's done it. I hope he's happy!"

"I take it they take the cuff off when you have to go to the bathroom and shower and all that?"

Krycek nodded. "Hope so. That's what he told me. In the meantime, I guess I'll be really bored, unless you can pick a cuff lock?" he asked hopefully.

Bill shook his head. "No, but let me think about this for a while and try to come up with a solution. In the meantime, want me to turn the stereo on for you?"

"Yes, please. A classical station."

At least he had music now. He lay back on the bed and tried to get comfortable. Then he noticed that he needed to piss.

"Bill!" he called. Runningwater came in, again looking worried. "Can you get one of those goons in there to unlock the cuff so I can take a piss?"

"OK." Runningwater went back into the living room and relayed the request. The goon came in a moment later, a young man with a buzz cut and enormous muscles. He unlocked the cuff and helped Krycek to a seated position. He was dizzy and felt a little sick. "Do you need help getting to the bathroom?" the man asked, surprisingly polite. Krycek turned a dazzling smile on him and got a smile in response. "I can manage, thanks," he said. When he'd finished the man put the cuff on his arm, gently, and clicked the lock home.

Krycek lay back and sighed. Damn the Old Man, anyway. Bill poked his head through the doorway. "You've got a call, Alexei," he said.

"I can't pick up the phone. Can you bring it to me and hold it up to my ear?"

"Of course," Runningwater said swiftly. "Here."

"Krycek," he said huskily.

"Hello, Alex. Good to know you're finally home."

"Fuck your mama."

"Well, she's about the only person you haven't fucked."

"Screw you."

He laughed. "I hope you do."

"I hope you die of lung cancer. Soon," he said viciously.

"Alex, Alex. I know you're upset now, but all this will change when I come back. I had to restrain you, don't you see?"

"No. I only see that I'm cuffed to a bed, like an actor in a really bad porno movie, and it's ridiculous, and it's degrading. And I can't scratch my nose."

"Don't sweat it, Alex. When I come back, you can have your freedom again. Your freedom to do everything but meet Fox Mulder."

"Damn you! Can't you see we're in love?"

"I see that you're in lust, Alex. That's a little different."

"You can't tell the difference because you can't love!"

The Smoking Man sighed. "Alex, Alex. I'm just really happy you're back."

"And under your thumb."

He laughed. "And under my thumb. Goodbye, Alex. I'll call again soon."

"Take it away, please Bill," he said.

The phone rang again a few minutes later. "Bill! The phone!"

Runningwater answered it and brought it to Krycek's ear.

"Krycek."

"Alex, oh Alex! You're there! You were abducted, weren't you?"

"Mulder, oh god I love you. Yes, I was kidnapped. They've got me cuffed to a bed. Just as he promised."

"Well, why don't I drive up there and pick the handcuff lock? That should be easy to do."

"You'd have to get past these two enormous armed goons."

"Oh. Maybe I could shoot 'em or something. I am an FBI agent and they are committing a crime."

"Maybe all of you at once could storm the place. Or just get the police to."

"Yeah, unless. Unless he's got the police under his thumb too. He might. He's a very powerful man, Alex."

"You don't have to tell ME that! Call White and see what he can do."

"OK. I'll call back."

"All right, Mulder. Thanks!"

When the phone rang again, it was White explaining that although he wanted to help Krycek, he couldn't; his hands were tied; so were the police's. There was nothing he could do in an official capacity. 

"Did you call Skinner?"

"Yes, he was the first person I called. He said to leave it alone, that he'd had orders 'from on high' to 'leave the Krycek stuff alone' -- looks like we're stuck unless we can get someone, you know, a freelancer, up there."

"Shit," said Krycek. "Guess I'm S.O.L."

"Look, buck up, Alex. He'll be home in a few days."

"And he'll beat the crap out of me like he always does."

"Try to reframe this, Alex. Try to think of it as an adventure. You're the brave Alex Krycek, which you are, by the way, and you've got to endure a little discomfort -- well, maybe a lot of discomfort, and then everything will be OK."

"Everything will not be OK if I don't have Mulder."

"Alex. Alex, you were recruited several years ago, when you were just a young sprat, to work for the most powerful man in the world. As a result, you have now become his. Mulder doesn't want that to be, Dana doesn't want that to be, none of us do, yet that is the case. Alex, you can't fight this and win. You made the decision six years ago to turn your back on the FBI, to rat on the FBI, to work for this man. Now, essentially, you are his property. This goes against all our morals and ethics, even our laws, but it is reality. This man is the outlaw of all time."

"Shit." said Krycek. He could feel his eyes tearing up. He knew that what White was saying was honest, true and real; he knew that beneath his brusque exterior White cared about him, but it didn't help. He was afraid he would never again see Mulder, or that they would brainwash him, as had been done to Mulder, so that he would no longer love the man.

"Look, White," he said, his voice unsteady, "keep me posted on whether you can get a freelancer up here."

"I definitely will. Now, here's someone who wants to talk to you again."

"Mulder?"

"Alex, oh Alex."

"Mulder, are you going to be able to help get me out of here?" Krycek asked anxiously.

"I'm under strict orders not to, but I will try anyway," Mulder said.

"You know, Mulder, these guards of mine are heavily armed. It's gonna take a small army to take 'em down. Maybe you should scrap trying to get me out of here. I could stand it if I thought I'd ever see you again."

"You will, I guarantee it. I promise. Cross my heart, etc."

Krycek chuckled. "Thank you. How am I gonna get out for the ceremony? The Old Man is scheduled to arrive a day after it happens."

"We'll find a way."

"Sharon could sleep with you, Mulder."

"Ha ha, very funny. No such thing is ever going to happen."

"Mulder, here comes one of my jailers. Yeah? Oh. My lunch and/or dinner is ready. I get to get out of the cuffs and stretch."

"That sounds really good, Alex. Now you keep up your courage! I'll call you several times a day. Hell, I'll call you every hour if you want! If you're at all uncomfortable where you are, be sure to let Bill Runningwater know. I believe he's probably got some pull with the guards."

"He does. Thanks for everything, Mulder!"

When Bill took the phone away, Krycek began to cry, deep sobs that shook him hard. The guard knelt and put a concerned hand on his shoulder. "It'll be OK," he said. Then he unlocked Krycek's arm and helped him up. "It's tacos and burritos," he said. "Runningwater made it. It's good!"

Krycek accepted help standing in an upright position. He walked unsteadily to the kitchen table where the food was spread out. He tried to eat, but he was still crying. "Oh, Alexei!" the Navajo said sorrowfully. "I hate so to see you suffer!"

Krycek looked at him through tear-blurred eyes. "I'm not in pain, not physical pain. I just miss Mulder so much!"

"I know you do! You'll see him again!"

Krycek's chin fell to his chest and he sobbed inconsolably. "I'm calling the Old Man," said the Indian. He punched in the number; it was picked up immediately.

"Yes?"

"Sir, this is Bill Runningwater, calling about Alex."

"Is he all right? Is something wrong?"

"What's wrong is that he can't stop crying. "

"You have my permission to give him an injection of Ativan. You can administer this drug every six hours, round the clock if necessary. I want him to be comfortable. Do you know where I keep the injectables?"

"Yes, sir."

"OK. That should handle the problem. If it doesn't, call me back"

The tall man leaned back in his chair, exhaling smoke. Things were definitely looking up. He had the report from Nightshade in his hand: while at the Steamer's house she'd stolen a scrap of paper left on the kitchen counter with a date and a PLACE written on it. Now that they knew where it was, they could deploy more people to attend it.

And the Krycek problem had been handled for good and all. The thought of his Alex in bondage on their bed made him really hot, and he took out his cock and stroked it. He closed his eyes, thinking of Alex. He would absolutely have him, cuffed. He pumped his cock harder and when he came, he saw stars. But how much better it would be with Alex.

Afterwards, he threw his suit pants on the floor. He had many more like them. "Barry!" he called, and the cute lad popped his head in the doorway. "Get rid of these," he said, indicating the pants.

He checked the time: 12 midnight. He ought to convene an emergency Consortium meeting. Could the information wait till the morning? No, he decided, it couldn't. "Barry!" he called again. The boy came into the room and stood waiting expectantly. "Call all the members of our group, would you, and ask them to come to my suite? And call room service for coffee and rolls, that sort of thing."

"Consider it done," the boy said, and disappeared.

*************************************************

Everyone at the Steamer's house was deeply worried and concerned about Krycek, and Mulder became so frantic, crying, pacing and doing everything but climbing the walls, that Scully had to give him a tranquilizer

"Mulder," she said, holding his hands in hers, "We all love Alex very much, you most of all. We all want to see him safely returned. But nothing can be done at this point to get him back. Our hands are tied, Mulder, tied. You CANNOT go on a sojourn to get him. Please know that he is perfectly safe, well-cared for, and loved. He is not being hurt, he is merely being detained."

"But his 'master' will beat the shit out of him when he gets home."

"Mulder," said Scully, holding his tear-streaked face in her hands and looking into his gray-green eyes, "That's not something that you can prevent. The Smoking Man is very powerful. Things will just have to play themselves out. It's out of your hands, Mulder."

Looking into his eyes, she saw desolation. "Mulder, I truly believe that when all is said and done, you'll get Alex back. I believe there will come a time when he is yours, and yours alone."

He nodded. "I've got to believe that, or life isn't worth living."

Scully was alarmed. "Are you thinking of hurting yourself, Mulder?"

He shook his head. "No. Not at all. I'm just feeling very sad, very empty. What about the ceremony? What about the raising power? Sharon?"

Sharon came over to stand near him, stroked his hand. "Don't worry about that, Mulder. It will all be taken care of."

"Will you have to ask another couple?"

"No." she said firmly.

He was mystified. "How do you propose to get hold of Alex?"

She shook her head. "I really can't tell you, but I can tell you this: Alex will be at the ceremony."

"Does that mean he'll be out, then, and we can be together?" he asked hopefully.

"Only for the ceremony, Mulder. He must be returned the same night or people will die."

"Oh," said Mulder, crestfallen.

*************************************************

It was a sleepy group that straggled into the tall man's drawing room at 12:30 AM.

"Getting us up at this hour? My God, man!" complained the Well-Manicured Man. He was dressed in casual slacks and a sweater because he couldn't bring himself to wear a suit just now.

"This had better be good!" The First Elder said, settling himself into a love seat.

"Yes," said a small elderly man. "We've had our share of trouble and turmoil from these meetings."

The tall man shook out a cigarette from a pack of Morleys and lit it. "I think you all will be very pleasantly surprised at the news. First of all, when Nightshade was in the Steamer's house she picked up some very valuable information -- the PLACE that this D-Day is supposed to happen. It is in the Forest of Nicene Marks, at the most southwesterly edge, in a circular grove of redwoods, one tree lying on the forest floor, dead, across the circle."

"This is encouraging," said The First Elder cautiously.

"Yes, it is!" exclaimed the WMM.

"The other piece of information that I would like to impart is that Alex Krycek has been neutralized."

"My God, man! You killed him?"

The tall man gave him a look. "No, of course not. I had him picked up and taken to my home, where he is now cuffed to a cast-iron bed headboard. He is guarded by two men at all times, round the clock. He is only allowed off to eat, etc."

"That sounds as if it might work," The First Elder said speculatively. "Yes, it is a good idea, if you don't want to terminate Krycek."

The tall man flamed at him. "I will never hurt Alex Krycek! Get that through your head!"

"We've seen you beat him," said the small elderly man quietly. "I would call that 'hurting'."

"I would call that my business, and not yours!" the tall man retorted. 

"Let's not fight, please," said the WMM. "We have business to discuss. If there is a map of this forest, we need to obtain that. Otherwise, we could be wandering around there for days."

"I think that the description sounds pretty clear," said The First Elder. "Anyway, it is the job of our operatives to find the place! Nightshade is pretty sharp, we'll set her on it, and two others that are favorites of mine, Amanita, a protegee of Nightshade, and Osprey."

There was general agreement in the group, nodding of heads and a few smiles.

"Too bad you ruined your boy," said The First Elder pointedly at the tall man, who was drawing on a cigarette. "At one time he was the best of all."

*************************************************

Sharon worked quietly in her room performing rituals that would raise power and confer protection upon her and her associates. So far, she'd done about 30,and she had another 30 or so to perform. Halfway through her third spell, she was bothered by her infernal lover, but she steadfastly ignored him and he actually went away. She didn't know whether this was a reflection of her newfound power or some other reason, but she was glad of it. At some point Sharon realized she now had telekinetic powers; she could make objects in the room move; and there was more, much more. Approaching Mulder, she laid her hands on him and found, to her astonishment and his, that his healing wounds went completely away. When she accidentally touched Frohike in the kitchen while thinking about a nap, he promptly fell fast asleep.

Sharon had been given many magical gifts, and she knew she'd barely guessed their extent. She was a sorceress now, a woman of power.

At night she prayed to Gaia, Diana, and especially Mari, the Virgin Mary, whose picture now adorned the makeshift altar she'd put together out of driftwood and nails. She could feel herself becoming a different person.

*************************************************

After lunch, Krycek was led back to bed by the big guards and cuffed back in. He lay, excruciatingly bored, on the big bed he normally shared with the Old Man. One of the guards, the friendly one, came in and sat on the bed. "Hi!" he said. "Just wondered if you wanted to talk."

"What's your name?" asked Krycek.

"Bruno."

"Well, glad to meet you, Bruno. It's nice of you to come in and talk to me. What's the other guy's name?"

"He's Dane. He's a little more reserved. Are you comfortable there, Alex?"

"Yes, as much as can be expected. I don't like having my arm in this fixed position and I can't scratch an itch, but other than that, it's OK."

"Would it be more comfortable to have a leg cuffed instead?"

"I don't know. I could try it."

Bruno went out and conferred with Dane, and brought back a set of leg irons. "OK, Alex, we'll release your arm. Now turn around on the bed, so that you're facing the wrong way. That's right. Now I'll fasten this around your ankle, like so, and clip it to the bed. Is that more comfortable?"

"I think so," said Alex. "Only problem is, I can't watch TV."

"We'll bring a small one in and put it on your nightstand."

"I think this'll work fine," said Krycek. "Are you gay?" he suddenly asked Bruno, who winked at him.

The TV was brought in so Krycek could watch it. He'd never known before how interested he was in these shows, especially the ridiculous X-Files. It was time for dinner before he knew it. It was some kind of Italian thing that normally wouldn't have interested him, but he actually ate some of it. 

After dinner he requested a bath, so he was allowed to take a long hot one. Bruno sat with him on a bench, though, because there was rather a large window in the bathroom. They couldn't take any chances on their charge escaping. After drying off, Krycek enfolded himself in a big fluffy robe and went to bed that way. Bill Runningwater came in with his medicine. "Will this help me sleep?" Krycek asked. "Yes, it will." So he permitted himself to be injected again. He went to sleep quickly, and he dreamed he was in a forest, looking for Mulder, and all over there were signs that Mulder had been by recently, and sometimes he caught a glimpse of his lover, but he always lay tantalizingly beyond his reach.

*************************************************

The phone rang obnoxiously. "Mulder, can you get that?" he murmured, then with waking came the realization of his situation. He looked with horror upon his leg irons; he lay back and thought of Mulder, and became flooded with despair. His eyes were beginning to leak when Bill Runningwater came in with the phone. "Is it Mulder?" he asked huskily. Bill shook his head.

"Krycek," he said wearily.

"Alex! How are you doing?" 

 How do you think I'm doing, you dickwad? "Pretty well."

"I heard they've now got you by the leg. Is that an improvement?"

Is pneumonia an improvement over rabies? "Yes, it is."

"It's just a few more days, Alex, then I'll be home, and you'll be a free man."

"Are you going to punish me? Whip me?" asked Krycek steadily.

"I think that, realistically, Alex, yes. I can't let your transgressions go unanswered. But I'll just use the belt, not the big whip. And it'll be over before you know it."

"Is there nothing I can do, to escape this? It hurts and scars."

"Yes, it will hurt; that's the whole point, Alex. But I won't hit you hard enough to scar you."

You lying sack of shit. "OK."

"I get kind of panicky, cuffed to this bed."

"You're probably due for some Ativan. Let me speak to Bill."

Krycek got his Ativan shot, a double dose this time, and he very soon felt that he was floating in the vicinity of the ceiling. The panic was forgotten, the worry about the beating was diminished, and he felt really good. Bruno came in to talk to him, and pretty soon they were both laughing. 

Dane brought him some extra pillows so he could sit up a little. "He's straight, isn't he?" asked Krycek, and laughed as if this were the funniest thing in the world.

Krycek heard his cell phone shrilling. He couldn't get it, however, as it was in a jacket pocket. Bruno brought it and Krycek answered it, hoping against hope.

"Krycek," he answered breathily.

"Mulder," came the beloved voice.

"Mulder!" Krycek shouted. "Mulder! My love, Mulder!"

"I'm glad I got a hold of you!" Mulder exclaimed.

"Have you been trying and having trouble getting through?"

"No. I just thought that whoever answered wouldn't let me through."

"For some reason, they're letting me receive calls from you, for which I'm eternally grateful," said Krycek, leaning back against his pillows.

"Well, Alex, you sound positively buoyant this morning. Any reason?"

"They've got me loaded on Ativan. I mean, really fucked up."

"Yeah, Scully's got me on it, too. I guess it's working," Mulder said doubtfully. "I was crying hysterically and rending my garments, and I'm not doing that now, so I guess I'm better."

"I'm so glad, Mulder. Oh, Mulder, I hate this. They put me in an ankle cuff and I can use my arm, and that's so much better, but still, I'm a prisoner. I want to be with you! Instead I get to be fucked by the Old Man when he gets back, and I get a beating, and maybe more than that. He likes to hurt me."

"Alex," said Mulder softly, "I feel for you. If I could change places with you, you know I would. This is agonizing for me. I love you more than life."

"Oh, lisitsa, love of my life. It's so wonderful to talk to you. If only I could see you, touch you, taste you."

"Oh cruel fate that decreed you should be recruited by the Old Man, back when you were my partner," said Mulder in wonder and sorrow.

"My heart is breaking," said Alex simply.

*************************************************

The tall man paced through the rooms of his suite, his anteroom, living room, bedrooms and meeting room, smoking as he did so. He was fighting a nagging doubt that he was doing the right thing. Something told him that he needed to be back in California, needed to take the next plane out. And he didn't know why. Was this over Alex? He didn't think so, although of course he would be very glad to see Alex. There was something, something about that Sharon Green. She was some kind of airy-fairy New Age weirdo who thought she bore the Devil's child, true, yet Spender thought there was something else there, something that was key to D-Day; and he couldn't put his finger on it. And it was bothering him, plenty.

"Barry!" he called. The lad put his head into the livingroom. "One, please book me a flight to San Jose, California. The very next one. First class. Two, please get me a whisky sour."

"Aye, Aye, Boss!"

The tall man packed a few things, a couple suits, left most of them hanging in the closet. Consider it my donation to charity, he thought. He placed a call to Nightshade but got her voicemail. He left a brief message.

Barry came back in within fifteen minutes with the whisky sour and the news that he had made arrangements on a flight leaving two hours from now. Yes, it was first-class, and yes, he had called a cabby who would be at the hotel in ten minutes. The bellhop came up in a moment and collected the tall man's many bags, all Louis Vuitton. He kept his laptop and a carry-on with him.

Once in the air the man brought out his laptop and began searching the Web. He had the kind of electronic gadgetry that permitted a wireless Internet connection. He found Left Hand Path sites but these proved to be dead ends, with the exception of one, which had no links to other sites but which incredibly had a picture of Ms. Green with the legend, "Rosemary of Sharon, mother of the new god." Evidently someone else thought that Sharon's baby was the Devil's imp. He tried "wicca," but this brought up the most egregious garbage he'd ever seen. He tapped his fingers impatiently on his armrest. There was something he was missing because, despite Nightshade's detailed reports, she couldn't get it all. And Sharon Green had held something back.

When the waitress came by he ordered bagels and lox, and a mimosa. It was going to be a long flight, might as well try to enjoy it.

He dozed for the remainder of the trip so that when he awoke, it was daylight and his plane was in a holding pattern over San Jose International Airport. When it finally landed, he brought out his cell phone and called a limousine.

Once in the limo, he placed a couple of calls. One of them was to his home.

"Hello, Bill. How are things?"

"Fine, fine."

"How is Alexei?"

"He's fine. Well, he's a little loaded on that dose of Ativan we agreed to give him."

"That's fine. He can be as loaded as he wants. Is he lucid?"

"Yes, he is."

"Put him on."

"Krycek." That wonderful breathy/throaty voice that drove him wild.

"Alex, hello!"

"Hi! How are you?"

"I'm fine. Alexei, I'm on my way home. The limo is beginning the grade up the Santa Cruz Mountains. I will be home within the hour."

"That's great! I'm really looking forward to seeing you!" Jesus, he must be high.

"Have you been comfortable, Alex?"

"Ever since they decided to fasten my leg instead of my arm, I've been great! Uh, plus this medication makes me really loaded. Like being drunk without the hangover." 

"I've got presents for you, all kinds of things I think you'll like."

"Really? Sounds good, Boss," and he started to laugh.

"Put Bill back on."

When the tall man entered the master bedroom, he was treated to the spectacle of Alex wearing a robe and nothing else. "Are you too lazy to get dressed, Alex?"

"Ah, I just had a shower."

The tall man bent swiftly over the bed and ran his hands under the robe, over Alex Krycek's bare skin. Krycek was so high he didn't really mind it that much. "What have you got for me, Alex?" the man asked, grasping his cock. To Krycek's surprise, he had an erection. The tall man quickly pulled off slacks and shorts. "Lie on your side, Alex," he instructed, held Krycek around his midsection, and penetrated him, shoving deep into his ass. It hurt, but again, Krycek was removed from the pain. The man reached around and stroked and pumped Krycek's cock in time to his thrusts and in no time, to Krycek's lasting shame, he came all over the place, hard, while the older man had his orgasm.

"Alex, my pet," the older man breathed, kissing and caressing Krycek. "I was away from you too long." Then he stood up, dressed but removed his belt. "Do you want this now or later?"

"Now," said Krycek hoarsely. No amount of Ativan would make this pain less. He wanted to get it over with.

"OK, Bruno," the older man called. "Unlock his cuff for a moment. Turn over, Alex, on your stomach. OK, lock it back up."

The first blows were very painful but bearable. As the beating progressed, the slashes of the belt, on his back, his butt, the backs of his legs, became agonizing and drew forth grunts from Krycek, then cries and then screams. "Stop! Stop! Please stop! For God's sake," he said, over and over. Finally the Smoking Man decided it was time to stop, and he did. Krycek lay limply, eyes cast down, long lashes fluttering and mouth parted. The Smoking Man checked him. "He's out cold!" he said in wonder. "At least I didn't kill him.."

"BILL!" he called, and Runningwater came running. "Yes, sir?" He saw Alex and stopped cold.

"Did you have to hit him so hard?" he finally asked, his voice trembling.

The older man turned away, lighting a Morley. "I did, you see, because our Alex is very stubborn. He never learns anything except the hard way. I wanted this lesson to sink in."

"I guess it has," said the Navajo, shaking his head, looking at the unconscious Krycek, his back a mass of welts and places where the skin had simply split open.

"Clean him up, Bill," the Smoking Man instructed. "When he comes to, give him a painkiller and a stimulant. I want him fit to sit at the dinner table tonight. Make some of that frybread he likes so much." He left the room to confer with the guards. 

"You really beat the crap out of him, didn't you?" Bruno asked accusingly. "Why, sir? He seems like such a nice person!"

"Oh, he is a nice person, except when he's killing people," said the Smoking Man breezily, stubbing out his cigarette and lighting another. "I had a pet rattlesnake once. It was a beautiful thing. Gentle most of the time. But deadly."

Bill Runningwater sponged the unconscious Krycek's welts and wounds, and his tears ran into the rinse water. "Oh, Alexei," he wept, "what did he do to you?" He dried him off, ever so gently, and dressed the hurts with Neosporin and gauze.

Krycek woke up halfway through the dressing. "What the fuck?" he asked conversationally. "What the fuck happened? Ouch, shit, my back!"

"Stay down, Alexei. There's just a little bit more I have to do," said Runningwater, taping up a cut.

"Why'm I sticky?" Krycek asked, touching himself. "I had an orgasm? After he hit me?"

"I think it was before. Lie still, Alexei, and I'll wash you there, too."

"I'm gonna kill him, you know that, don't you?"

Runningwater shook his head. "I can understand your being very angry at him."

"Angry's not the word! Angry's not the word! I'll kill you, you bastard!" he yelled. The Cigarette-Smoking man came and stood in the doorway.

"I think Valium, Bill, in addition to Demerol, instead of the stimulant," he said casually. Bruno came with two hypodermic needles.

"Oh, no, no drugs! No more drugs!" Krycek yelled hoarsely, thrashing around on the bed. Bruno had to sit on his legs to administer the injections. "I hate you too!" he cried. "Bastards! I'm gonna kill you, Spender, you prick!"

The drugs worked very quickly and Krycek became less profane. "May I get out of this thing?" he asked, indicating the leg irons. "You promised."

"Promises can be broken," mused the CSM, "but I'll release you, Alex, if you behave." Bruno quickly released the lock and Krycek sat up.

"Get dressed, Alex, and come and join us in the living room, have a glass of wine."

Krycek stood up creakily, went to the closet and selected black jeans and the green poet's shirt that turned his eyes to emerald. The shirt was very loose, too, and would slide over his bandages without irritating the wounds. He walked out of the room that had been his jail cell for three days and into the living room, where the CSM, smoking, and both guards sat.

"Good to see you out of your bonds, Alex! You look very fetching in that," the CSM said approvingly. "Have a glass of pinot noir."

*************************************************

"Scully, there's something wrong," Mulder said, over croissants and jam at the dining room table.

She raised an eyebrow. "Well, there are a lot of things wrong. What's up in particular?"

"I can't get a call through to Alex. I just got voice mail for a while, then I got someone who sounded like that bastard Smoking Man, and he said Alex wasn't there."

"Oh, God," she said softly. "He's there. With Alex"

Mulder looked at her, stricken. "God knows what he's doing to him! I have to get him out of there, Scully!"

"And just how are you going to do that? They have ground radar, they have heavily armed guards. You'd be a sitting duck; they'd pick you right off. And if you live, Mulder, you will lose your job and go to jail. And what use then could you be to him?"

Mulder stuffed in a great piece of croissant, thinking furiously. "What if we ambush the CSM, take him hostage, make him give Alex back?" he asked.

Scully looked at him like he'd grown another head. "Mulder, listen to yourself. You're not making sense. You'd probably die in the process, and if you didn't, again, you'd sit in jail for a long time. And you wouldn't be safe there, either," she finished, shaking her head.

"But I'm his son, allegedly," Mulder said.

She laughed grimly. "He killed his other son, didn't he, and caused the death of his daughter, your sister. Have you forgotten? Mulder, the man is ruthless. And, and, Mulder, he is inviolable."

Mulder shook his head. "I'm gonna get him out of there somehow!"

Sharon drifted into the kitchen, looking for the ingredients of an avocado and sprout sandwich.

"Sharon, do you know a way to get Alex out of there? The Smoking Man has got him now."

"Well, he's had him for three days now. You mean that he's back, don't you?"

"Yes." 

She made her sandwich on the counter, looking concerned. "Yes, I did get a picture of the man, though I have never seen him. Very tall, right? And smokes more than I do?"

"Yes! Do you see what he's doing?"

"To Lexy?" Her brows knit. "I see that they're having a midday meal. Lexy's back is hurt and he can't lean back in his chair."

"His back is hurt? That bastard beat him! I'll kill him!" Mulder put his face in his hands. "Sharon." he said, raising his face to look into her eyes, "Can you think of a way to get him out of there?"

Sharon finished assembling her sandwich and sat down with them. "Yes," she said at last. "I can. Only I can do it, however. I can get him out for the ceremony. But then, Mulder," she said, looking at him steadily, "I have to take him back."

"How can you get him out? Using your magic powers? And why must you take him back? I don't understand!"

She was silent, taking a bite of her sandwich. "Yes, Mulder," she said, "I have powers which will enable me to get him out of there, harming no one. And as for the taking him back? I just have to. It's the way things have to work."

"But why? Surely it's a terrible wrong, that he's there with that monster?"

She nodded. "Of course. But, Mulder, do you know about karma?"

"Sure, the Hindu concept. What goes around comes around, essentially?"

"Yes. Now, Mulder. What has Lexy done his whole adult life?"

"Spy?"

"Yes, and that translates to "killing," doesn't it?"

Mulder looked down at his plate. "But a lot of those killings were in self-defense."

"Yes, and a lot of them weren't," she said calmly. "Mulder, the law of karma states that if you work off your bad karma in this life, you won't have to do it in the next. That's what he is doing right now. Try to understand. Lexy has the chance to be a realized being, in this life."

"I'd say he's already worked off a lot of bad karma!" said Mulder angrily. "Look at his arm! Look at how he still suffers! Don't give me this 'wages of sin' bullshit!"

She sighed. "It's OK. I didn't expect you to understand. Anyway, I would like to tell you that because he is medicated, he isn't in terrible pain, either physically or psychologically. He's adapting to his environment."

"But I don't WANT him to adapt to his environment, dammit!" he roared. Scully, finishing her last bite of croissant, eyed him. "Would you like some Ativan, Mulder? You're working yourself up again."

"No, I don't WANT the fuckin' Ativan!" he yelled. "I just want my Alex back!" He began to cry. "I just want my Alex back! Not just for one fuck! I want him back forever!" Sharon and Scully put their arms around him.

"It's OK," said Scully soothingly. "Everything will work out, you'll see."

"You'll be together, eventually," said Sharon. "Then no one will ever tear you asunder."

*************************************************

It was a very subdued Alex Krycek who started dinner with the Old Man. He sat very straight in his chair, not willing to lean back for fear his back would hurt. He ate several pieces of fry bread and some soup. He also accepted glass after glass of chardonnay, and thenceforth the alcohol mixed with the Valium and Demerol to make him really bombed. Later, he remembered laughing during the meal, and the Old Man being pleased. After the dinner he remained in the livingroom, talking and laughing easily with the guards, until the Old Man summoned him to the bedroom.

"Sex again?" asked Krycek, swaying, and with a silly smile on his face, collapsed on the bed. The Old Man pulled Krycek's pants down and fucked him as he lay, his need for him was so great

Afterwards, the Old Man left to confer with Bill Runningwater about Krycek's sutures. Krycek, not out but completely smashed, made so bold as to pick up the phone and punch in Mulder's number.

"Multher?"

"Do you want Mulder? Who is this?" It was Scully's voice, he was sure of it.

"Thish ish Khryc'k."

"Alex? Oh my God! Are you all right? You sound drunk!"

"Itsh the methication. And the Chardonnay," he admitted.

"What medication?"

"Themerol, Valium."

"And they let you drink?

"Yeah. Can I pleash talk to Multher?"

"ALEX!"

"Multher!"

"So how are you?"

"Can't complain."

"You're high, Alex?"

"Balium, Themerol, Chardonnay," he said solemnly.

"Good Lord! Are you all right?"

"Nebber bether!"

"Should I call 911 to come get you?"

Krycek laughed. "I'm all righ, Multher. Jush a liddle high. Anyway, thay won' come here."

"I love you, Alex, oh, so much! Sharon says she can get you out for the ceremony! Isn't that great!"

"Howshe gonn' do that?"

"She has her ways! Oh, Alex, I love you!"

"I love you too, Multher, more than life--" The phone was yanked out of his hand, ripped out of the wall and thrown across the room, and Krycek was slapped resoundingly on the face, three times. The Old Man's face was a mask of rage.

"You little snake!" he ground out from behind clenched teeth. "I trusted you, and what's the first thing you do? Call Fox Mulder!"

"Fuck," said Krycek, trying to concentrate on seeing straight. "I jush made a fuckin' phone call!"

"'Just'? 'Just'? You know you're not supposed to do that! You know you're not supposed to have any contact with him! Bruno! Dane!" he called, and the guys came into the room. "Cuff him to the bed, face down, both legs."

"Fuck!" yelled Krycek. He seemed to have sobered up suddenly. "Fuck no! Lea' me the fuck alone!" He kicked and struggled, but the big musclemen simply sat on him while they fastened the irons to the headboard. "I'll kill you! Bastard! Son of a whore!" and he spat in the direction of the Old Man.

The CSM laughed softly. "You are so wild, my little Alexei! It's most attractive in a beautiful young man!" His cell phone rang, and he took it out of a pocket. "Yes? Oh, really? I'll be right down there!" he pocketed the phone and picked up his keys. "I've got to leave you for a while, Alex. Bill Runningwater will come to take out your sutures, and he or my employees will be able to get you anything you want. Within reason."

*************************************************

Sharon had discovered that being virtually housebound wasn't all it was cracked up to be, and she volunteered to make a grocery run. Scully looked at her doubtfully but told her that she was a big girl and able to take care of herself.

Shopping at the Santa Cruz Safeway was a zoo. Sharon could barely maneuver her cart down the aisles, which seemed to be clogged with teenagers and mothers with small, howling children. When she got to the produce department, she selected lettuce, tomatoes and radishes and decided to get a watermelon. The one she wanted, of course, was at the bottom of the pile. Glancing around for a sales clerk, she started digging the melon out, and it was slow going. She knew she could use her powers to do any of this stuff, but it would look mighty strange, wouldn't it, to see melons floating through the air?

She was concentrating so hard on her task that she didn't see the man approaching her from her left. "May I help you?" he asked politely. "No," she began, and she looked up at him. She was instantly assaulted by a wave of thoughts and images coming from his mind, and rocked back on her heels.

"I know you," she said, recovering herself. "You're Mr. Spender, the Smoking Man! You have Alex Krycek!"

He raised an eyebrow. "And how do you know all this?"

"I just do. Do you have some business with me?"

"Well, for one thing I wanted to help you get this melon out. Here," he said, placing it in the bottom rack of her cart. A beautiful young woman like you ought to have a man around to help her." And she was very beautiful, he thought. Her pictures did not do her justice. If he'd have liked women, he'd like to have had her. She looked at him steadily, reading this in him, and more. "I have to check out now," she said. She got in line and he stayed with her, riffling impatiently through the pages of a magazine. After he finished he placed a candy bar casually on the conveyor belt and paid for it with a $100 bill. "Allow me," he said, wheeling the cart out for her. He helped her load the Miata, then he leaned against the car and shook out a Morley. "Smoke?" He asked, knowing that she did.

"Yes, I do smoke, but I've got my own brand, thank you." She pulled out a Marlboro and he lit it for her. "So what exactly are you doing here, anyway?" she asked, but she had her suspicions. "You want to ask me about D-Day, which you already know about; and you want to ask me about my religion. Am I right?" He was so tall that she had to crane her neck to see into his eyes. What she saw there she did not like.

"I had some questions, yes. If you'd like, we could go out for coffee and discuss things, or you could come to my place. I promise you I won't bite."

"So you can take me captive, too?" she asked, brown eyes snapping. "No, thanks! Ask your questions here!"

"OK," he said, expelling smoke. "Whose child do you carry?"

"You should know the answer to that one."

"To whom do you pray?"

"My pantheon of gods and goddesses."

"Any in particular?"

"Of course," she said, exhaling smoke. "But I can't talk about this in detail. In fact," she said with an alarmed look on her face, "I know what you want to know, and this is the end of our discussion!" She threw her cigarette down and opened her door. He caught her arm, holding her in an iron grip. "No!" she cried. "Let loose of me!" He jumped back as if stung. "I know who you are! I know all you have done throughout modern history, and you may not harm me, you scion of Satan!"

The Smoking Man experienced the girl's arm becoming too hot to touch, and now saw her surrounded by white light. He stepped further back. "I am but a man," he said. 

"Who already serves the Dark Master, and wishes to become more powerful by learning the secrets of His power, or possibly of mine," the girl said, and her light faded. He walked toward her, but she slipped inside the car, started and gunned it. He got into the Porsche. I can outrun that Miata, he thought.

Sharon noticed that she was very weak from having used her powers so much, and could barely put the Miata through its little gears. Checking in her rearview mirror, she noticed a black Porsche practically on her bumper all the way down Western Drive. She knew who it was, and her spirits sank at the thought that she would have to have another confrontation, this time with her power drained.

She pulled up at home and he parked across the street. "Rose of Sharon!" he called.

"No!" she said fiercely. "Stay away from me and stay away from my house! There are FBI agents within, and they'll shoot you soon as look at you!"

He laughed. "It seems that you were doing a pretty good job of taking care of yourself, back there, and as for shooting me; why, they won't do it!"

"Do you expect me to ask you in?" she said. "Mulder will slap you around some, at the very least."

"No, I don't, and no, he won't. I am his father."

"You mean you're his sperm donor! You're not a father! You murdered your other children! The man who raised him was--"

"Was murdered by Alex Krycek, whom you think so highly of. Can't we be forgiven for our sins of the past? Isn't Christianity all about forgiveness?" He shook out a Morley and lit it, inhaling smoke.

"I'm not a Christian," she said quickly.

He looked at her sidelong. "That's not what I heard."

She looked down. "I'm a Wiccan, OK," she said softly. "Don't read anything more into it than that." She turned to go. 

"Don't go!" he said, "come home with me!"

"And do what? Spill the beans? Be tortured for real or imagined transgressions, like you're doing to Lexy? I don't think so!"

"Come join my side! It is rumored that you will die in the coming confrontation. That doesn't have to be!"

"Do not tempt me! I will not join you! Now go!"

He stood looking at her for a moment, then pulled out a gun and aimed it at her heart. "No more New Age bullshit. Get in the car, Rose of Sharon."

"I won't," she said firmly.

"You will, if you don't want to get hurt. I will shoot you."

She looked upward, spread her arms. "Morgana! I call on thee to help me! Come bid this man begone! Gaia, Mari, Danu! Diana, Azaria!"

The Smoking Man watched as a great wind came up and flattened him against his car, then slashing rain. Lightning flared, striking a tree nearby. He got into the Porsche and looked at Sharon. The little bitch was standing, perfectly dry and unruffled, looking back at him. She lifted her hands. "Begone!" she cried...

And he and the car were sitting in his own driveway in Soquel. He was absolutely astonished. He got out and inspected the car; there were raindrops clinging to it. All right, that had only indicated it had been in rain. Had he "lost time," as the people with dissociative disorders did? Or had he really been transported through a "wrinkle" in space? His brows knit. Now was the time to write down all those names before he forgot them. He pulled a note pad from his jacket pocket and jotted, "Diana, Danu, Mari..." and he couldn't remember the rest. But that was a good start. Yes, the Wiccan web sites and books had most of the goddess names, but he needed to know which ones gave Sharon power. He also wanted to know how she'd been chosen to hold the power.

*************************************************

The Consortium gathered for another emergency meeting in the conference room on the first floor of the hotel. Food and drinks had been hurriedly sent in, but no one felt like eating. It was late, they were tired, and they were pissed off.

The First Elder stood up, clinking the ice in his rum and Campari. "I'm sure that you're aware that there's been no sign of Spender, his room is vacant, and he has not called back. I've just received word that he flew to California on TWA, flight #1013."

"His desertion is shocking," said a small elderly man.

"I think not," said the Well-Manicured Man. "He's done this kind of thing before. He's pursuing some lead he doesn't want us to know about; he's got some information he doesn't want us to have."

"Or, or perhaps in addition, he wanted to be near Alex Krycek," The First Elder said slowly and speculatively.

The WMM snorted. "What, his boy-toy! He's got one in every port!"

The First Elder took a swallow. "He's very attached to that boy." 

"In fact, if I didn't know better, I'd say he was in love with him."

"My God, man! To that one-armed wonder?"

The First Elder looked at him. "He was once considered one of the handsomest men anywhere, and he is still very attractive. Yes, I'd say that Spender is so in love with him he can hardly think about anything else."

*************************************************

Sharon ran to the front door of the Steamer's house and opened and shut it quickly. She leaned against the door, breathing hard.

"What's up with you?" asked Mulder. He was chewing sunflower seeds and spitting the hulls into an empty coffee can.

"I just had not one, but two encounters with your father."

"My father?" he began in astonishment. "My father's dea-- Oh, you mean the CSM?"

She nodded. "Yes. He 'accidentally' ran into me in the grocery store. Then he followed me here!"

He jumped up, scattering sunflower seeds in all directions. "Is he still here?"

"No. I called on the goddesses and they transported him away, where I don't know, but probably to his home."

He looked at her. "Geez," he said softly. "What did he say?"

"He was after information, and of course when I called on the goddesses, I spilled the beans. He also asked me to join his side."

Mulder's eyebrows went up. "This gets weirder and weirder. How did you spill the beans?"

"He wants to know the source of my power. He wants to know which gods and goddesses give it to me. Well, it's principally Mari, your Mary. When I invoked the goddesses, then of course he heard their names."

Mulder frowned. "Did you have to do that?"

"I did; my power was depleted. He would have overcome me and taken me to his house."

"Good Christ," said Mulder softly, shaking his head. "I feel so badly for you, Sharon. He is a formidable enemy. Too bad I wasn't there! I wish I would have been looking out of the window! I would have shot the bastard and then gone and gotten Alex!"

"I know," she said sympathetically, "yet I feel that Alex has to be there. For now, it is his destiny. Later, I am sure you two will be together."

"Yeah, Scully says the same thing. Maybe you're right! I hope you are! I hate to think of Alex in bonds, having to have sex with that monster!"

"Yet he loves Alex," said Sharon softly.

"What? Loves him and treats him that way?" Mulder asked incredulously.

"Yes. He is very controlling and he does those things to him to keep him in line...and there will be many lavish gifts for Alex, too, to try to make Alex love him."

Mulder shook his head. "So my rival is this mean old guy who smokes?"

"Yes, Mulder, that is essentially correct. Alex loves him and has strong ties to him, no matter what the man does to him, and no matter what, Mulder, Alex says to you about the relationship. But you, he loves more. Loves you more than life."

"And I can't be with him...You won't liberate him! Does any of this strike you as tragic?"

She nodded. "It is sad. Yet it will resolve itself. Please don't worry!" she said, and kissed him lightly.

*************************************************

Alex Krycek lay spread-eagled, face-down on the bed. After a little while he began to cry raggedly and wretchedly, his eyes and nose running and dripping into a little puddle at the foot of the bed.

Bill Runningwater came in and stroked his hair. "My poor little Alexei! You suffer so much! I don't understand why he tortures you so much!"

Krycek cried harder, great wracking sobs that shook him from head to foot. "I wanna die! I wanna die! Give me something that'll kill me! Inject me with Drano! I don't care! Please, please shoot me!"

"Now, now," said Bill soothingly. "You know, it's time for an antibiotics shot, and then you need your Ativan."

"Give me an overdose! Kill me! Please make me die!"

Runningwater got the antibiotic, the Ativan, and the Demerol. Those wounds on his back couldn't be any too comfortable. He swabbed Krycek's arm for the Dicloxacillin and the Ativan, gently pulled his pants down for the hip shot of Demerol.

"You'll feel better soon," he told Krycek reassuringly, and indeed Krycek's sobs became fewer and fewer and he lay quietly. He heard the Porsche pulling into the garage and asked Runningwater, "Is that him?" 

"Oh, probably. He'll be coming in to check on you."

The Old Man stood in the doorway with a bemused look on his face. "How is my Alexei?" he asked softly.

Krycek didn't answer; he lay with his head turned, staring at the window. The Smoking Man took in his spread-eagled pose, his pants around his thighs, and shook his head. He motioned to Runningwater to leave and went over to Krycek.

"Oh, Alex," he said, turning Krycek's head and kissing him. He shucked off his pants and knelt behind Krycek, mounting him. Krycek closed his eyes and pretended it was Mulder doing this to him. The Old Man reached around for Krycek's cock. His body had betrayed him again and he had a sizeable erection. The Old Man stroked it in time to his thrusts. He came first, groaning and yelling, and then Krycek came. "Mulder," he whispered, and then "Mulder! MULDER!" he yelled at the top of his voice.

There was a stunned silence. The Old Man came around to the foot of the bed, held Krycek's face in one hand and slapped him with the other; probably 5 or 6 times, he lost count. "Mulder is not in this bed!" he thundered. "Never say his name again, never! You're spending the night like this, Alex, I don't care how uncomfortable it is! You can sleep in your own come!" He stalked out and slammed the door shut behind him.

Alex began to cry again and soon Bill came in and sat on the bed, holding Krycek's head. "This is atrocious," he said softly. "Bruno!" he called. Bruno arrived and began unlocking Krycek's bonds. "We'll at least get him into the shower and put clean sheets down," said Runningwater. Krycek sat up. "I'm a little dizzy," he said, and got up unsteadily, with help from Bill and Bruno. They helped him into the shower. He washed himself thoroughly, trying to remove every trace of the Smoking Man. He was rinsing off when the same gentleman grabbed him by the wrist and yanked him out of the shower. 

"Did I give you permission to shower?" he hissed, and led the soapy Krycek back to the bed. "Lie down on your stomach, Alex!" he commanded and locked him back up, naked. "I'm going to have you again, Alex, and this time I don't want to hear Mulder's name!" He mounted Krycek rapidly and again took his cock in hand. Damned if he wasn't erect again. The skin-to-skin sensation of sliding against Krycek's slick wet body was one of the most sensual things the Old Man had ever experienced and he came quickly. Krycek, for his part, came pretty hard and bit down on the inside of his cheek so he did not call out Mulder's name.

"That's much better," remarked the Old Man. "I'll unlock you tonight, because I want to snuggle with you."

"Thank you," said Krycek, grateful for more freedom and comfort.

After kissing Krycek, the Old Man put his face against Krycek's chest, wrapped his arms around him, and fell asleep. Boy, did he snore, thought Krycek. Gently, gently he extricated himself from the older man's embrace, got up and dressed, and headed out toward the kitchen. He didn't have time to look for the car keys, but he could ride a horse where he wanted to go. He opened the back door, trying not to make it creak, and walked carefully down the stairs. He ran to the west pasture and called softly to Guardian. The horse whinnied and snorted, trotting gladly toward his master. Krycek mounted in one fluid motion. No halter, no bridle and no saddle, but the stallion had been trained in dressage and could be controlled with subtle leg movements. He was turning the horse when a voice said, "I wouldn't!" He looked down and there was Bruno, aiming his service revolver at him. He signaled the Thoroughbred to execute a "controlled rear," and Bruno backed away. Damn, thought Bruno. He can stick on a rearing horse with no saddle! "I've still got you, Krycek," he said, re-aiming his gun. "I would hate to have to hurt you. Make that horse come down to Earth and get off!"

Krycek did as he was told and was forced at gunpoint into the house. "Now take off your clothes and get into that bed! I won't tell the Old Man what happened." Bruno watched as Krycek removed his clothes and climbed into bed with the Old Man. "Alex, if there was ever a chance, would you consider dating me?" Bruno asked hopefully. "You're the most gorgeous man I've ever seen and it's no wonder the Old Man is so gone on you." Krycek winked at him, and this seemed to satisfy the guard, who went away with a smile.

Krycek pulled the top sheet over himself and the Old Man, who stirred. "Alex, whur're you?" he mumbled, and Krycek, not wanting to, embraced him.

*************************************************

D-Day was one week away. Sharon stood regarding herself in the full-length mirror in the hallway. Her pregnancy was already becoming obvious; she'd have to wear baggier and baggier clothes. Thank God her morning sickness had begun to abate. She wasn't bothered by her infernal lover lately, either, as her power had grown.

The door to the Lone Gunmen's bedroom opened and Byers came out, wearing his pajamas. "Admiring yourself?" he asked. "There's a lot to admire, Sharon." She looked at him and laughed. "There'll be more and more to admire, you know, as we go along." 

"Sharon, we are proud to announce that among the three of us, we have recruited priests of every major faith, and several minor ones."

"Oh have you! Oh, thank you so much! You three have been absolutely invaluable! What would I do without you!" she said, hugging and kissing him. He blushed and retired to his room. Another door opened and she saw Scully go into White's room, and a moment later heard muffled sounds of lovemaking. Well, that was as it should be. They both needed it.

She went quietly downstairs, and there was Mulder, popping open sunflower seeds. The coffee can looked pretty full

"Hi, Mulder!" she said, touching his shoulder. "Whatcha know?"

"Thinking about fairness and justice, things like that," said Mulder, crunching a seed.

"I know," she said sympathetically, "it's hard."

He turned his large hazel-green eyes on her. "You could liberate him, but you don't. It doesn't seem right."

"Are you angry with me?" she asked gently.

"Yes, for playing God," he said, and spat a hull into the can. 

"Do you think I am?" she asked earnestly.

"Yes, I do," he said, sucking another seed. "Like you're the will and the voice of God, something like that."

"Mulder, I hate to have to tell you this, but essentially, I am. I am the closest human being to God."

He snorted. "Come on, Sharon. We know you're very gifted and have many special inexplicable powers, but you're making a pretty big claim there."

She grimaced slightly. "I know. And I know how ridiculous it sounds. Nevertheless, it's true, and if I say that Lexy is working off bad karma, and I can't disturb that process, you may wish to honor that."

He looked at her and sighed. "Who knows? You could be right. I'm just so unhappy about the Alex thing."

"Yes, and you have every right to be. Mulder, look, if I felt his life were in danger for one instant, I'd get him out of there. There are people there who love and care for him, Mulder, even your hated father. And think: in a week you'll see him again, for the most glorious encounter of your life."

"Yes, true," he said, and spat a hull into the can.

*************************************************

The house phone rang shrilly at 2 AM. A groggy Smoking Man answered it. "Yes, this is...Nightshade. Your report? Thank you. I found out the names of the goddesses; here they are, let me get the list." He reached into his suit pocket and found it, read the names off. "What of Osprey and Amanita?" he asked. "No, they're not mine...you'll probably have to get rid of them. Yes, I know she's a friend of yours. Take care of her. Carte blanche...I really don't care, just do it... I have him under control...no, I didn't; he's here, docile as a lamb," he said, looking down at the sleeping Krycek. He replaced the phone in its cradle and considered rolling Krycek over and taking him from the front. Yes, it would be delightful, but he decided against it. Let the boy sleep. He looked so cherubic, with his hair tousled, and his cupid's-bowed lips slightly parted, and his long dark lashes fanned lushly on his cheek. The Old Man kissed him and put his arms around him, and that is how he fell asleep. 

Krycek woke before him, put on a robe and wandered out to the kitchen. The night guards were just leaving, and Bruno and Dane were coming back on. They must work twelve-hour shifts, he realized. Bill Runningwater was in the kitchen rattling dishes around and evidently preparing something. "Hi, Alexei," he said, with a big smile on his face. "How are you doing?"

"Sad. I'm sad," he said. "Depressed."

Bill shook his head. "I'll get you some medication." He came back with three syringes. "As you adjust, Alexei, you'll need less and less of the Ativan. Is your back still hurting you a lot?"

"Yes, quite a bit."

"OK, then, Demerol again too. The third needle is Dicloxacillin."

Krycek stood and opened his robe obediently for the injections. In a few moments, he began to feel better. He sat on a barstool, swinging this way and that, watching Bill make perfect omelettes. Bruno tapped him on the shoulder. "Your presence is requested. Shower. Master bedroom."

Krycek got reluctantly down from his stool. He knew what was coming, but he didn't care as much as he might have, because he was drugged. The Old Man was soaping up. He pointed to his straining erection, and Krycek knelt and took him in his mouth, sucking hard. The older man came with a roar and a burst of bitter fluid, which Krycek swallowed. That dumb old joke about a ten being a nine who swallowed floated through his head. "You, my boy, are an artist," he told Krycek. "You suck and fuck better than anyone I've ever known."

"Thank you, sir." he said politely.

"Let me do your back," said the Old Man. He gently removed the dressings and even more gently sponged Krycek's back. "Does that hurt?"

"No, but I am on Demerol, so I wouldn't know."

"You'll be off the Demerol in a few days, but we'll keep you on Ativan for a while longer, until your adjustment period is over."

Adjustment period. It sounded so final. Adjusting to being away from Mulder, maybe forever. He couldn't help it; a tear rolled down his cheek; but who could tell, with the shower on full-blast? "I'll shampoo your hair, Alex. Is this the shampoo you usually use?"

"Yeah," he said, and the Old Man started soaping his hair, and it felt SO good, as if Mulder were doing it. Mulder. His Mulder.

"Rinse," said the older man, and the younger stood obediently under the spray.

For breakfast there were Denver omelettes, bacon, bagels with cream cheese and lox, and mimosas. "Only two mimosas at most, Alex," cautioned the Old Man, so Alex had two. "You may have half an hour on the grounds alone today, Alex," said the Smoking Man. Go and interact with your horses, you may even ride them for half an hour, or take a walk. It's up to you what you do. There are only three things you may not do. What are they?"

"Um, try to escape," said Krycek, "meet Mul-- that man, or talk to him on the phone." 

The CSM smiled. "That's absolutely correct! Now, Alex, I want to show you some things I think you will like." He pulled out his carry-on Vuitton bag and opened it, setting it down in front of Krycek. "Go on, see what's in there!"

Krycek opened it up and gasped. Inside was a glittering array of jewelry. On top was an emerald pendant on a heavy gold chain. The gem was 30 carats, as green as his eyes, and nearly flawless. He took it out slowly. "Put it on!" said the older man. "Here, let me fasten it for you! Look in the mirror!" Krycek did so, admiring the jewel.

"Come look at the other things I have for you!"

Krycek went exploring in the case and came up with the matching earring, a five-carat emerald stud, which he also put on. There was a heavy gold bangle studded with emeralds, and a solid-gold watch encrusted with same. Finally, at the bottom, Krycek fished out a gold ring, set with an emerald. "It will fit your ring finger. Take off the one you've got." Take off Mulder's ring? The Old Man was looking at him intently. Finally, and with great reluctance, he took off the ring and put the other one on. "See?" the Old Man said. "It goes with mine," and he fished in his robe pocket and came up with the identical ring, with his put on his right ring finger. Krycek thought despairingly, Mulder! but submitted to it, and a kiss.

"I've got more things to show you, but only time enough for a couple more, then I have some business to conduct." He disappeared into the front bedroom and came out with an exquisite emerald-green lambskin outfit, tight pants and a loose shirt. "It should fit you; go and try it on!" Krycek did so and came back with it on. "Turn around," said the Old Man. He shook his head. "Alex," said he, "don't get a swelled head about this, but you are the most handsome man in the world. Now, go out and look in the driveway and tell me what you see!"

Krycek looked, and he saw a brand-new Ferrari, red, wrapped with wide green ribbon and a huge bow. "Is this for me?" he asked, incredulously. "Yes! It's all yours! You can't drive it yet, till I can trust you more, but you'll able to, in a month or so. Hope you like it!" Krycek turned to him with shining eyes. "I love it! I love everything you got me!" and he hugged and kissed the Old Man, who smiled and disappeared into the bedroom to get dressed in one of his 20 or so identical suits. "Go and get dressed for your half-hour," he called. "I have some business to conduct today; I'll be out, and I'll be back around dinnertime." He left, driving the Porsche.

Bill Runningwater embraced Krycek. "You're doing so well, Alex!"

Krycek shrugged. "Well, I am doped to the gills. It helps. Plus, he's treating me a hell of a lot better, not like an animal. But I wish he hadn't made me remove Mulder's ring."

Bill turned away so he could not see the hurt in Krycek's eyes. "I'll keep that ring for you, so he doesn't throw it away or something, OK?" he said.

"Thank you! You are very sweet!"

"Alexei, how's your back?"

"I don't know; I can't feel it."

"Let me look...hmm. Doesn't look bad at all. Granulating; no infection. I don't need to dress it again. It should start itching like crazy soon. Don't scratch it."

"Why did he have to do it?"

Runningwater sighed. "His need to control you. Don't you see how madly in love with you he is? You're all he can think about. He had to come back early from Europe, where he had very pressing business, to see you. He brought you hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of gifts. Notice how incredibly jealous of Fox Mulder he is, too. He'd kill him if he weren't someone he admires very much."

Krycek shook his head. "Am I his? Or am I Mulder's?"

"I think you are very much your own man."

Krycek snorted. "I'm his...I'm the Old Man's, aren't I? I belong to him, don't I?"

Bill did not answer.

*************************************************

Scully woke up at 5 and was dressed and showered by 6:00. She was later than usual because she'd showered with White. When she went downstairs, floating on air, she saw Mulder, chewing and spitting sunflower seeds. The coffee can was overflowing onto the table, but he didn't seem to care. "Mulder, have you been up all night?" she asked, concerned.

"Um," he answered, staring off into space. "Yeah, I guess I have."

"Mulder, are you feeling all right?"

"Sure," he lied.

"It's because of Alex Krycek, isn't it? Look, Mulder, if you're depressed I can prescribe you Prozac, but I think you should see a psychiatrist ... someone better than Dr. Bayer, though. Are you depressed?"

He looked at her. "I miss Alex. He was my raison d'etre. Without him, I want to die, all the time."

"Are you thinking of hurting yourself?"

"No, but I'm thinking of hurting Sharon."

Scully stepped back from him as though she'd been burned. "Mulder!" she cried. "You are ill! I'm going to hospitalize you!"

"Now, wait, Scully," he said, holding up his hand. "I didn't say I'd DO it. I just said I've been thinking about it. Thinking isn't doing, right?"

"But thinking is frequently the precursor to doing," she said. "Why are you THINKING about hurting Sharon? She's the best person I've ever known, except for you, Mulder."

"She won't liberate Alex, which only she can do, because he's 'working off bad karma' or some bullshit like that."

Scully went into the kitchen and banged the pots and pans around, looking for the right one. "What if it's true, Mulder?" she asked. "Are scrambled eggs OK?"

"Well, sure, if you don't burn 'em," he said. "What makes you think it's true?"

"Uh, number one, I believe everything she says because it's ALWAYS true," she said, breaking the eggs into a large bowl and adding a splash of milk. "Number two, Mulder, don't forget, Alex Krycek killed your father. The person who raised you. That was murder, Mulder. And he was responsible for the death of my sister. Another murder. And so many other people, dead, because of Alex Krycek," she added, cutting up some cheddar cheese into the eggs-and-milk mixtures.

Mulder put his chin in his hands and sulked. "And don't sulk, Mulder," she added. "Face facts. The man is bad karma personified."

"Doesn't sound like you like him very much," he said.

"I like him a lot. I'm just realistic about him."

"He wasn't born a murderer."

"No one was."

"He was taught how to kill by the monster he's now living with."

"No one forced him to learn." She set the pan on the burner and the eggs began to sizzle.

"I'll make bacon, too," she said. "You like that, don't you?"

"When did you learn to cook, Scully?"

"I never did. I can make bacon and eggs, that's it."

"Scully, why am I gay?"

She rolled her eyes. "How the hell should I know?

"Scully, may I have some of that Ativan or something?"

"If you watch the eggs, you may. Don't let 'em overcook."

"OK," he said, poking them. "What does it mean if they're brown?"

"Sheesh! Means they're overcooked. Scrape 'em out!"

She returned with the Ativan, rubbed his arm with an alcohol swab, and injected him.

"Krycek is on this stuff too," he remarked.

"Is he? It probably makes things a lot easier for him," she said with compassion.

In a few moments Mulder was much more relaxed. "I feel great, Scully," he said, stretching.

She eyed him. "Don't get too used to that feeling. You can't use the stuff forever."

"Thank you, Ms. Wet Blanket."

White came downstairs and joined them. "I was thinking about getting freelancers to storm the mountain fastness," he said casually, and Mulder turned to him, hope in his eyes. "Sharon, a minute ago, explained that I couldn't do this, that they are heavily armed and have ground radar and all that. That people would die, our people."

"Well damn her then," said Mulder softly. "The bitch just wants her own way."

White looked at him with utter shock on his face. "Mulder, I believe her. Plus, I thought we were a team here."

"We're missing one member," Mulder said bitterly.

"Mulder," said White, carefully, "we all miss Alex terribly, and we're trying to think of ways to get him back. But the top priority is D-Day, which is approaching very rapidly, and which we need to win."

Mulder shrugged. "I'm pretty high right now or I'd be really upset."

"You sound upset anyway."

"Maybe I am. Maybe I'll go up there myself and get him."

They both shook their heads. "Here are your eggs, and here's your bacon, Mulder. Now eat something!" Scully said.

"And forget that idea entirely," White said, "about liberating him yourself. You can't do it. Mulder, we don't want to lose you too."

*************************************************

Barbara Donaldson, aka Holly Lake, aka Nightshade, had had a productive day. First, the call to the Old Man had yielded something potentially useful -- good thing she tipped him off to the girl in the supermarket, that Sharon Green. She would have handled it herself, but she knew he was interested in meeting her and seeing a first-hand demonstration of her magic powers. And so he had, and he'd given her the goddess names, which could pan out. Too, the news that Alex Krycek, probably her deadliest enemy, was being held prisoner at the Old Man's estate, cheered her greatly. She had no doubt that the Boss Man would contrive to keep the slippery and weaselly Ratboy there, under his thumb and out of the way.

Finally, there was the matter of Osprey and Amanita. Although Amanita had been a protegee and friend of hers, inasmuch as one could have friends in this business, she was a rival in this matter and had to be snuffed. As did Osprey, whom she didn't think much of. And it was going to be fun, setting traps for these two and killing them.

She stood at her motel room sink, washing her brown hair dye away. Today, she would be a redhead.

*************************************************

Krycek decided to go visit his horses. "Take more than half an hour if you want, Alex," said Bruno. "We're not timing you!" Krycek smiled his thanks and winked. He walked down the back stairs and out into the clean air. The horses greeted him. He spent several minutes just patting them and talking to them. He fed them oats, which they appreciated. Then he vaulted onto Diablo's back and rode him around the pasture, fast. Diablo had been a racer, too, but you'd never know it: the fat little Arab mix looked like a very plump sausage with hooves. "Too many oats, Diablo, not enough exercise!" he said sternly, but his heart sang to be riding again. Then he slid down and mounted Guardian. The giant bay stallion half-bucked, but Krycek scolded him and he settled down to a long, ground-eating lope. Just for the heck of it, he put the horse at the far fence, which he knew to be five feet; the stallion cleared it with a foot to spare. He jumped the fence on the way back, too, and the horse kept his neat little feet tucked up under him, with plenty of room between him and the fence. He arrived back at the house, half-breathless and laughing, in 40 minutes. 

"It was wonderful, riding, Bill! The most fun I can remember having in a long time!"

"Yes, and you are such a wonderful rider! Never have I seen such a fine natural rider! To be able to ride blooded stallions like that without even a halter is quite an accomplishment. You ought to have been in the Olympics, Alexei!"

"Thank you!" Krycek's white skin was flushed and glowing. In the time he was out, he hadn't thought of his plight or his back but only of the beauty of the stallions and the thrill of riding racehorses.

"I'm baking bread this morning, Alexei. Would you like to help me?"

"I'd love to. What are we making?"

"Challah bread."

"I haven't made that before, so maybe you could show me?"

"Of course."

After the bread was placed into the oven, Krycek busied himself helping Runningwater around the house. He vacuumed, did laundry, changed the sheets on the beds and even scrubbed out the showers. "You're amazing, Alexei!" Bill beamed. "And now, it's time for your Ativan." Krycek stood as the injection was administered and felt the familiar floating sensation moments later. At around 11:00, there was a roar and a great screech of brakes in the driveway. It was the Porsche, and its driver jumped out and ran up the stairs two at a time. "What's he want?" he mused.

"You, Alexei. He wants you. Probably he has been thinking of nothing else all morning." 

The Old Man, not looking old at all, burst through the door and snagged Krycek by the wrist, pointing in the direction of the bedroom, and pulling him toward it. Once inside, he said tersely, "Take off your clothes!" Evidently he wasn't doing it fast enough, because the CSM took hold of the shirt and popped every button off. Then he yanked Krycek's jeans and shorts down, holding them so he could step out of them. "On your back," he said, pushing Krycek down on the bed. He shoved a doubled-up pillow under Krycek's hips, lubed himself up and mounted him. 

Krycek's body had betrayed him once again, and he had a hard, straining erection, which the Old Man stroked and pumped. "Look in my eyes," he said, "I want you to look in my eyes now, and when you come." Soon Krycek could feel the shaking beginning in his midsection; it traveled throughout his body and then he was bucking, coming in great spasms, and spurting all over himself, and he did look in the Old Man's eyes, and he read there, to his enduring surprise, love. "Oh, Alex," breathed the Old Man, and thrust into him spasmodically as he came. He rested his face on Krycek's chest. Krycek studied him for a long moment. "You have such thick hair, except in this one spot!" he said, idiotically, and the older man laughed. "Alex, Alex! What a truly Alex Krycekian thing to say!"

They arose and got dressed. "You ruined my shirt," said Krycek. The older man collapsed in laughter. 

"Alex! You are too funny!"

"What?" said Krycek, irritably.

The Old Man came to him and kissed him. "Don't ever change. Now I've got to go again. See you around dinner, and oh, Alex, you can have another half-hour out this afternoon."

"Thank you."

He ran down the steps and out to his car. "He is in love with me, isn't he?" Krycek asked in wonder. "How weird."

"Alexei," Bill began, "half the male species is in love with you. Every gay guy, and a bunch who aren't. Women, too."

"Oh?" Krycek asked. "Are you in love with me, Bill?"

Runningwater patted his cheek. "No fair asking."

*************************************************

The Consortium met at 8 PM in the penthouse suite which had been taken over by the Well-Manicured Man. As usual, there were sandwiches and such, and as usual, no one was eating them.

"I move that we all fly back to the States so that we can resolve this matter with Spender," The First Elder was saying.

The WMM snorted and took a sip of his Martini. "Well, we already have a pretty good idea of what he's up to, don't we? Keeping secrets and playing with his boy-toy."

The small elderly man spoke up. "We need to know what those secrets are. You can bet they're crucial to our success."

"Or our failure," The First Elder said gravely. "He may have plans to bring us down. Or he may simply be ignoring us."

"Damn the man!" the WMM said sharply. "He does what he wants, never plays by the rules! I move that we send Osprey and Amanita after him! They'll find out what we want to know!"

"In return, he has Krycek and Nightshade to send after us. The Ratboy has three recent murders to his credit, let us not forget. And Nightshade is the great infiltrator, master of disguise, accents, languages, with a tremendous knowledge base. She can get the goods on anyone," said The First Elder. 

"If I ever see that Ratboy again, I will shoot him on sight!" said the WMM bitterly, downing the rest of his martini. "Barry!" he yelled, and the English boy popped in. "Bring us more drinks, please!" "Yes, Sir!"

"So," said The First Elder, "We must think seriously of returning to the States, and returning quickly. We can then put more pressure on Spender to surrender whatever he knows. Can we get a vote on this? All those in favor, raise your hand." He looked around the room. "All right, it is unanimous." He nodded.

"Barry!" he called. "Yes, Sir?"

"Book us all on a flight to San Jose, California, the next one if possible, first class."

"Yes, Sir!" he said, tipping his hat and smiling.

Now why couldn't that ornery Krycek be more like that?

*************************************************

Mulder sat in the kitchen, chewing and spitting sunflower seed hulls. Scully had emptied the coffee can, but he was working on filling it up again. "Mulder," she said, munching some of Langly's Frosted Flakes, "You've got to eat something. You didn't eat any breakfast."

"I'm eating," he said, munching a seed. She rolled her eyes. "Do you want your Ativan?"

"I guess so." 

She prepared the injection and gave him the shot. "Mulder, I have to get a new umbrella for the table outside. Ours is torn. I want you to come shopping with me."

"Um." (Chew, spit!)

"That's an order, Mulder, I've got to get you out of the house. All you're doing is sitting around moping."

"And getting high," he offered.

"You're impossible! Get some shoes on and grab your seeds!" She dumped the sodden mass of Frosted Flakes down the sink.

They drove along in the Cabriolet, Mulder chewing the seeds and spitting the hulls out the window. "You know, Mulder, it might give you a lift to get some new duds. We'll go to Macy's."

"What the hell's the matter with the ones I've got?"

"Oh, I don't mean your suits. They're fine. Just get some new jeans, shirts, things like that."

"Scully?"

"Yes?"

"Alex is having sex with him, isn't he?"

She pursed her lips, not sure how to answer. "More than likely, he is," she said slowly. "Remember, this man has been sleeping with Alex off and on for years." She glanced at him and his stricken look told her that she had said the wrong thing. "Mulder," she began again, "he's been kept by that man...it's how he makes a living."

"Yeah, well," he said savagely, "I'll bet he doesn't exactly loathe it, you know. Think he'd lie there with a dead dick like a cold piece of meat? Oh, no. Oooh, no! Not my Alex! He's getting hard, and he's climaxing! The whore!"

Scully shook her head. "Mulder, suppose, just suppose he derives some pleasure from these encounters. Hasn't he called you, in utter misery because his movements have been restricted, because he was a prisoner chained to the bed? Do you begrudge him any small pleasure?"

"Do you think the CSM's dick is bigger than mine?"

She smacked her forehead with the palm of her hand. "No, Mulder," she said, exasperatedly. "I've seen you in your Speedo, and believe me, NO ONE'S is bigger than yours."

He leaned back and smirked. (Chew, spit!) Then his face clouded over. "Scully?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think he loves Alex?"

"Well, not in the sense that you or I love, but I would have to say, probably, yes."

"Do you think Alex loves him?"

"Only if it was out of some sort of hostage syndrome. Otherwise, Mulder, he loves only you, only has eyes for you. You're his one and only. The love of his life. Want any more cliches?"

He grinned. "No. I get the point."

"Here's Macy's," she said, turning into the parking lot. "We'll find some nice stuff for you, Mulder."

He picked out a teal robe that brought out the turquoise of his eyes, some black jeans, black muscle shirts, black socks, black loafers and a pair of black leather jeans.

"Do you have this thing with black, Mulder? Is it the nihilistic symbolism; punk; street rebel?"

He shrugged. "It's cool."

They went next to a Home Depot to pick out an umbrella. Mulder chose a gaudy one, pink hibiscus on a turquoise ground. "That'll be fine," she said, turning a pretty smile on him. In the restroom, he changed into his black jeans and a matching muscle shirt. Moving through the store with easy grace, he caught many an eye. One woman asked for his number, and two men, both of them attractive. Scully was thrilled. See how easy it is to get someone else? she wanted to say, but couldn't, of course.

"Did you give those guys your number?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Why?"

"So you could maybe go out for coffee or dinner or something...you know, date?"

"Ah, I see. You're trying to divert my attention away from the situation with Krycek."

She threw up her hands. "OK, I'll shut up. Just carry the umbrella to the checkout stand."

They made their purchase and walked outside. Once in the parking lot, Mulder was hit on yet another time, this time by another good-looking man; but he was older. He shook his head. 

"Sheesh!" he said to Scully.

*************************************************

  
Archived: April 22, 2001 


End file.
